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Build Up Your Gang

BUYG: Build Up Your Gang IV

Recommended Posts

I'd like to temporarily pull out of the competition for now. I haven't had much time recently to write a story, and I have a busy period of school coming up, so I think it's best for now to take me off the writer's list. Sorry.

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Katalix, Angels of Death, Navy Yard

Chapter one

A diligently described day in the life, with ample detail you could picture everything in real-time. I especially liked using a prostitute  as an ad hoc maid. You did use a Bobcat, a vehicle that your gang ...

... <snip>

... drastically better. It was well written and the dialogue seemed authentic, to me anyway but I am not Spanish, but very good indeed.

$48 + $100 multiple of five = $148


Rated by Vinny

Vinny, Build Up Your Gang staff, IV edition

Rating three

Mate, your latest rating was most welcome, and I really appreciate the kind words you gave to my work. However, it is that this was the first real solid rating session (seven stories), that your skill, but moreso your dedication, as a rater has shone through as worthy of praise.

Every writer gets a positive review, and areas for improvement are handled considerately (well, imho), such that it is plain you spend a great deal of time carefully weighing and crafting your reviews and ratings. Plus, your obvious eye for detail and perfection is tempered by a deft touch in applying it to ratings. While this is meant in no way a slight against other staff (positively not!), and perhaps I gush embarrassingly, but I wanted to thank you for your dedicated effort in your ratings.



Rucke, Build Up Your Gang staff, IV edition

Rating thirty (by my count)

Alright, so it wasn't your latest and there was only one story rated -- mine -- but I appreciated what you wrote, and I simply cannot single-out one staff member without also thanking you.

Alright, I've only been around three months, but, for a while there, you basically kept BUYG IV alive, and had Jacky not taken drastic measures, I'm sure you'd be pouring out your time for our ratings, almost single-handedly. And, for sheer quantity, you're not only a prolific writer, but a truly prolific rater. Your reviews are succinct, and get to the heart of what's good or what's not, but you're not afraid to lavish praise on the worthy.



*, Build Up Your Gang staff, IV edition

Rating one-hundred-and-eighteen

While I lack time right now to review all eleven past-n-parent staff wink.gif , I guess what I am trying to say is to all you staff is thank you. You don't need to do what you do (I'm sure you've a life), but you spend time making BUYG IV work for us participants and I, and I'm sure not the only one, appreciate it, guys.

All of you, keep up the great work. smile.gif





Rated by aragond

Edited by aragond

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Aragond, thanks for the high praise, made my day biggrin.gif

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Thanks Aragond, us staff members need some feedback too from time to time tounge.gif

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I haven't been on here on so long due to computer troubles. Can I switch over to the Gambetti Family at the Gravelli Mansion or do I still have to write two more Bratva stories?

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Irish MOB : Mindless Violence


Finbar knocked on the door of Packie McReary's home. However their was No reply, and Finbar was in a Rush and started panicing. Finbar went to the back entrance of the house, and peeped through the Key hole. He saw a Table full of Coke, The Coke that was ment to be Delt to the Ancelloti's. It appered that packie had snorted half of the supply already. Finbar's heart missed a beat at Packie's actions. Finbar knew that Packie was still upset about his Moms death but it didn't mean he could let the Irish Mob down and more importantly the Pegorino's who were ment to be dealing The stuff to the ancelotis were going to be furious.


Finbar was ready to kick the door down, But he swiftly changed his mind when he saw the door was already open ajar. Finbar entered calmly trying to keep the expression of anger of his Pink-cheek face. Finbar stared at Packie who was slouching back in his chair. You could now see Finbars face crumpling up and mocing vastly with confusment and anger all mixed together.


"You Darn Moron Packie! Are you out of your Mind" Exclaimed Finbar

"It's not my fahahault!" Cried out Packie with such deep emotion

"Packie!...You do realise the Pegs and Ancelotis are gonna kill us for this!"

"What...Why?! I can't help it...my friggin mother just got shot what do you expect!"

"Listen Packie, you know i'm sorry for your ma, But seriously you cant do This!" paniced Finbar.


Finbar after a few long Minutes managed to get Packie dressed up and Clean. Finbar knew the Pegs wern't going to be happy. Because of the Ancelotti's didn't get their Drugs, The anceloti's would make the Pegs suffer, and if the pegs suffer they were going to make us suffer, Things wern't going to well.


Packie got dressed up smartly, after he took a bath. Finbar and Packie tried to gather up all of the remaining Coke that was left, The other half packie had snorted due to his ma's death. Whilst Finbar was clearing up, Nobody realised some Pavano Mobsters had snuck in through the Back door that Finbar left open. The Mobsters took aim at the two Irlenders, However Packie spoted them, and Finbar ran for cover behind a sofa, as a Army of bullets flew towards them. Finbar managed to Grab his assault Rifle from the floor. When the Pavano Mobsters ran out of Ammo, They needed to realod their gun, This was the perfect timing, So Finbar shot one of the Pavano Mobsters whilst Packie shot the other in the Head.


Packie and Finbar were terrified, and looked at each other. They both decided quickly to rush to The Car where all the left over Coke was stored ready to deliver to the Pegorinos. When finbar got outside, to his Horror, The Car that had all the stoared Coke in was on Fire and exploded. Finbar and Packie Gasped in anger, as they saw about 10 more Pavano mobsters with weapons. Finbar ran toward a near car across the street to take cover as it was the closest, almost getting shot on his way. Finbar and Packie took cover and Opened Fire at the Pavanos.


Finbar took about 5 of them, The last one that he needed to shoot had a pistol, and was shooting his way up to finbar. Finbar used his old trick though, He waited for the mobster to run out of ammo, Now the mobster needed to reaload and had nowhere to take cover, Finbar leaped out and shot the Mobster 3 times in the Face. The Pavanos where killed But the shipment had been destoyed. Even worse the Cops where coming, But Worst of all the Pegs where going to be Furious with them.



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Piece as promised. I hope it will has less errors than the last one. I try to improve my english. I'm sorry you have to wait so long.


The Lost MC chapter two:

Truck jacking.


Tommy joined up in the October 2005 and he already managed to settle in. He was driving mainly with his brother, but he also was good in fights with large groups of enemies. Jim left the hospital, although he didn’t try to ride a bike. All the time he did something at his Zombie. Now he was repairing a back fork, broken during that collision with Biff. Johnny and Billy fought all the time, mainly verbal, but sometimes the situation became tense. Brian as always stood by Billy. He was the leader, but standing by him in all cases is a little too much.

I was sleeping on the mattress in one of the clubhouse rooms, when I felt pulling. I opened my eyes and I saw Tommy’s face. Face of twenty years old boy with big blue eyes and freckles on his nose.

„What’s up, youngster?” I asked.

„Billy has a job for us. We’ve got to get moving. In five minutes in front of the clubhouse.”

„Five minutes? Give me at least ten”, I groaned out.

„4.30. Downstairs”

Tommy left the room, and I jumped out of bed as if suddenly it changed into the grate. I pulled on black motorcycle boots and ran to the toilet. I splashed my face with water and I came back to the room, grabbed my jacket and I ran downstairs. I was ready in 2.58. In front of the clubhouse were Johnny, Tommy and his brother. They already sat on their motorbikes.

„Quickly Ralph. We’ve got job to do.”

I jumped on the Zombie and started the engine. We moved from in front of the club along the street shining from the rain. Street reflecting all mysteries of the city. Sorrows and joys of inhabitians of large Algonquin buildings and small houses of Leftwood. Reflecting a chromium of four Zombies going through the asleep city.

„What’s the job?”, I asked outshouting the engine.

„We’ve got to steal a truck that is going on the Plumbers Skyway”, Johnny answered.

„What the hell for”

„I not have a clue.It is for these Italians from Westdyke ”

„Ok” I didn't need more. Italians from Westdyke were for sure Pegorinos. Billy kept contact with Ray Boccino who was capo in the Pegorino family and who sometimes gave us some jobs. Mainly kicking sh*t out of somebody or stealing something, but the truth was we knew our trade like no-one.

We jumped on Plumbers Skyway and drove towards Alderney City. Soon we caught up with the truck. Red Phantom with white semitrailer drove gently on the right lane, but when the driver saw four motorbikes in the mirror sharply stepped on the gas. He started pushing other cars off in order to escape from us, but the truck had a little chance with four bikes. The large Phantom’s bumper scattered light Futos and Blistas Compact like skittles. Eighteen wheels pressed survivors. Inattentive Sanchez’s driver also got under the truck and fell out from the back in pieces. His motorbike was crushed and smashed up.

„Watch out”, Johnny shouted to us ”You don't want to end up like this”

I certainly didn't want and I suspect, that Tommy and his brother also not. Not very pleasant end. Tommy’s brother almost get to the side of cabin, when we saw a cop cars approaching from Alderney City. We thought that truck driver had called them to deal with us, but they tried to block the Phantom’s road. It was of little avail. The hit police car rolled a couple of times and landed on its roof. We retreated and waited for the course of events. Police more and more brutally tried to stop Phantom, but he was too rushing. He scattered police cars like toys. They didn't have a chance with such mass. A truck driver tried to turn right for entry into Booth Tunnel, but the high speed connected with the wet street caused semitrailer to fell down, which pulled a truck tractor behind. Police immediately surrounded the scene of the accident. The driver was dragged out from the cabin and thrown into the police car. We stood still on the flyover and watched what would happen.

„What are we doing?”, I asked „We won't take goods from under cops’ nose?”

„F*ck” Johnny became nervous „ I will call to Billy and ask him about his idea” he took the phone out and dialed a Grey’s number.

„Billy? We have a problem. Cops destroyed the truck. They will probably take goods. I don't know. No. Call Ray.” he said to the phone

„Billy is supposed to call Boccino and to ask what next. And we are waiting ”

We switched the engines off and we looked at cops opening the semitrailer and coming in. After a moment they left carrying some packets. They looked like drugs. It was interesting who they belonged to? It was interesting whom Ray ordered us to rob? Whether some other family or whether triads?

I took a packet of cigarettes out of the pocket and I took out one with my mouth. I looked after my companions.

„Does somebody want?” I asked moving the packet in their direction.

„No, thanks” Johnny answered

„No, I am not smoking” Tommy stated

„And I will take one” Tommy’s brother said and took out the cigarette. I threw the lighter to him, which he used and threw it back. I lighted my cigarette I put the lighter away to the pocket. I inhaled and I dropped the smoke with nose. A Johnny’s phone rang.

„So? I understand.What are we supposed to do?” he put phone to his pocket „We are waiting, and then we will be tracking cops. We will see where they will take goods.”

After a moment black Speedo belonging to the LCPD came to the place. Goods had been put inside and the van moved. Two police Merits joined the van as a backup. They headed for Booth Tunnel. We waited a while and we drove to the tunnel. The van was a dozen or so metres before us.

„What are we doing?” a Tommy’s brother asked ”probably we won't attack them?”

„We can only track them. We will see where they are going.”

The Convoy went to the police station located at Kunzite Street on Algoquin island.

„There is a problem. Goods are being protected. We won't enter there and we won't steal it.” I said

„I will call one more time to Billy” Johnny said and he took the phone out, he described the entire situation and he finished the call.

„Jobs canceled. We are returninh to the clubhouse.” Johnny said hiding the phone in a trouser pocket.

„What are we doing?” I asked

“At the moment nothing”

We drove to the the tunnel. We were at home soon. Our area, our club. Here we were at home. Always when we left Alderney I felt strange. As if I vacated the house and went into some unpleasant place. Like a child which must go to the school which he hates. He knows that he must there go, but he is trying to change it. I had the same. Sometimes it was necessary to leave to Alderney or even farther, but it wasn't my favourite job. Maybe therefore that I thought I didn't fit those surroundings. Luxury apartments full of sham, expensive night clubs. Not for me. Southern Alderney was my surroundings with air full of the factory exhaust fumes.

We arrived at the clubhouse and we stopped motorbikes. Jim came up to us.

„How did work go?”he asked.

„Canceled” Johnny said.

„Do you want to go on a ride? I would like to test the motorbike” he aksed Johnny


Jim jumped on the motorbike and they went to the north.

„What are we doing?” I asked

„We are coming back to the flat” Tommy said ”Sometimes you have to sleep”

Four red lights of two motorbikes disappeared in darkness and I stayed alone. I walked up the stairs to the club and I closed the door behind me. I took the jacket off and I left it on the bed. I could go sleep, but after the entire action I just don’t have to. I switched on TV set and sprawled in a chair. There were just news at the Weazel channel.

„Today police seized gigantic charge of the cocaine which was found in the lorry belonging to the Konstantin Petrovic. The driver apprehended during the police action doesn't want to testify claiming that he didn't know transported load. The investigation lasts.”

After news there were supposed to be Scene of Crime: Vice City series. I thought I would watch. Body of the young girl was found on the beach. The inspector Caine arrived to the place of the action and came out of silver Patriot. I watched series, but more and more I poorly associated with the plot. In the end my eyelids became too heavy…

Edited by Tycek

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I wanna join but does anyone know what the easiest gang to write for? Like maybe the gang with most stuff?

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Can I get my count changed to the right thing? Thanks. I'm not going to have any real main character. This story will be in 3rd person.


user posted image


Chapter 1


Michael DeCruz, Or Mikey, strolled casually down the gassy Bohan street.

Gassy?... don't you mean grassy.

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Can I get my count changed to the right thing? Thanks. I'm not going to have any real main character. This story will be in 3rd person.


user posted image


Chapter 1


Michael DeCruz, Or Mikey, strolled casually down the gassy Bohan street.

Gassy?... don't you mean grassy.

No i think he mean Gassy...You know Gas sigh.gif

Last time i checked their is no Grass in Bohan, or at least not alot of it.

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Colt M14
Can I get my count changed to the right thing? Thanks. I'm not going to have any real main character. This story will be in 3rd person.


user posted image


Chapter 1


Michael DeCruz, Or Mikey, strolled casually down the gassy Bohan street.

Gassy?... don't you mean grassy.

No i think he mean Gassy...You know Gas sigh.gif

Last time i checked their is no Grass in Bohan, or at least not alot of it.

Yeah, In Bohan there is gas coming out of those hose sort of things.

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I wanna join but does anyone know what the easiest gang to write for? Like maybe the gang with most stuff?

dontgetit.gifThe easiest gang to write for is the type of gang you have the most "sympathy" for, that is, that you would have the most stories for, that you understand the culture of best, and so can write the most authentic characters and situation. That would make it pretty easy. No point writing for the M.O.B., for example, if you haven't the slightest interest in urban, hip-hop-esque culture. But, if you know a lot about the mafia, then you write for one of the families.


As for the gang with the most stuff, well, that makes it easier to avoid writing about using a particular car your gang doesn't have, or particular weapon they don't have, but, in reality, provided you can avoid using those things in your story, you should aim for the gang you relate to best. Afterall, this IS BUILD Up Your Gang, and you're s'posed to be building up, writing, to affording a shotgun. Otherwise you just join the Gambettis. tounge2.gif

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Forget about me joining the Gambettis for now. I'll stay with the Petrovics.

Edited by Osric

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can i be irish mob at lucky winkles bar please

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Start writing stories, brownbear. You don't have to wait for someone to say it's ok.

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Gambetti Crime Family

Come Clean, chapter3


Russian Retribution


Roy Zito walked along Cassidy Street, flanked on both sides by crew members, Jimmy Alfieri and Vinny Gambetti. They were making the short walk from Roy’s drycleaners, Come Clean, to the Schottler Medical Center. It was a journey Roy made on a daily basis, as underboss to a hospital based godfather he was the main link between don Jon Gravelli and the family’s twenty-five capos.


When the group arrived at the hospital, Vinny and Jimmy stayed at the entrance while Roy continued by himself. Outside the don’s room stood Tony DeConcini, the don’s daytime guard, “Hey Roy, Jon’s expecting you, go right in.” Tony was a tank of a man, six and half feet tall and two hundred and eighty pounds he cut an extremely imposing figure.


Roy entered the hospital room and immediately took his place at the don’s bedside, “Jon, I gottcha a little somethin', from that thing we talked about,” it was five thousand dollars in one-hundred dollar bills, squeezed into an envelope. It was the lions share of a daily kickback from Malone Construction. “Two of my best are handling the collections for everythin' else, as we speak. East Hook Plumbing is sitting on a big windfall this week, tha’ thing from Istanbul, be here in a couple of days, ninety percent pure.”

“Give-itta Tony on your way out. Whatta ‘bout that other thing?”

“Yeah, wese took care of it, but there were eyes.”


Gravelli took a moment to think before answering, “I’m not to worried about it. Our friend at ULP (United Liberty Paper Company) has taken care of the investigation. I’m more worried bout his friends pickin’ up where he left off. Watch them, make sure the organization is completely finished.”

“No problem boss.”

“So what about other business?”

“Yeah, one of our union guys is gettin' greedy.”

“Which one?”

“Judson Bozeat.”

“It had to be him, didn’t it?”


Judson Bozeat, the president of the East Hook dockworkers union and a Gambetti associate, who for a price would let anything through or disappear from the docks. These days cargo theft was still a hugely profitable racket for the family but it paled in comparison to the vast sums made from importing drugs, guns and people.


The Gambetti waterfront interests are managed by Carmine Faicco, still technically a soldier in Roy’s crew, he has been acting capo for two weeks. The crew’s old leadership came under suspicion from the administration, not for being rats but for concentrating too much on narcotics; a Gravelli edict officially banned drug smuggling, but the real message is, just don’t get caught.


“Remind him who got him elected, if that’s not enough, remind him we’re not always kind.”

“If it comes to that, I’ll enjoy it, that prick’s been bustin’ balls constantly.”

“Start reaching out to the candidates he beat in the election, just in case.”

“Jon, there’s something else, somethin' f*cked up.”

“Hmm sounds ominous.”

“Our friends on the force are all sayin' they have Jon Junior.”

“So get him a lawyer!”

“Their sayin' he’s flipped Jon. They’ve been rolling up loan sharks all over town, the ones he owes money to.”


The relationship between Jon Gravelli and Jon Junior Gravelli was strained to the point of being permanently broken: Jon Junior was an out of control coke head and a degenerate gambler, who lived off his fathers name but lacked even the slightest respect for any of the people who had made his life so easy.


“If it’s beyond any doubt, then do what has to be done. I love you but, get the f*ck outta here, I want to be alone.”


Roy left, stopping only briefly to nod at Tony before hurrying back to his friends. Vinny and Jimmy were waiting outside the front of the hospital, they were trying to chat up a young ER doctor on her break when Roy snuck up on them, he made a gun shape with his hand and pointed it at the back of Jimmy’s head, “Bang bang, you’re dead. C’mon let’s go.” as the three left, Vinny waved at the young doctor and yelled, “See ya later hun.” the doctor sarcastically replied, “Yeah sure,” then under her breath added, “d*ckhead.”


On the other side of town Phil Leonardo and Gene Molinaro were still laying low after the very public execution of Marko Noltisanti. Cooped up in a small flat the men’s patience with each other was at breaking point. “Gedda f*ck outta here with that smelly ass food, it makes me nauseous, I told you already.”

“Where tha f*ck am I supposed to eat it, in the bathroom!”

“Open the window.”

“It’s cold!”

“I’m goin out.”

“Good f*ck off ya c*nt.”


Gene slammed the door behind him and stepped out onto the quiet Meadows Park street. He lit a cigarette then ambled down Tudor Street, still festering over the argument with Phil he kicked a crunched up can against a wall, “I’ll f*ckin kill the mutha f*cka made man or …” his sentence was suddenly cut short by a chorus of AK47s, all neatly lined up in a row spitting a lethal shower of bullets, one of the men spoke in a strong Russian accent, “Yuri Bulat says hello.” Gene staggered back towards the safe house, his body armour had been torn to shreds and his shirt was soaked with blood. The gunmen paused to reload, laughing as Gene attempted to speak, “f*ck you.” it was barely audible, “Your friend Phil is next, we saw the house you came out of,” as the final magazine clicked into place the guns resumed firing, Gene fell back over a garden wall, as he let out a final gurgled word, “Muthafu…arrrh.”


The streets were suddenly awash with patrol cars their sirens roaring and there lights flashing, the gunmen turned and began to fire at the police. Several cops were killed still in their car seats, others sheltered behind their vehicles, pinned down by superior firepower.


The gunmen jumped over the wall that Gene had fallen over moments before and dug in: each had hundreds of bullets and body armour. One by one the cops fell as the bullets cut them down and destroyed their patrol cars, one car exploded as a bullet hit the gas tank starting a chain reaction of car after car being blown to pieces. The gunmen seized the opportunity and started to run, their car had been blown up along with all the nearby vehicles and any motorists in the surrounding area departed as quickly as possible scared off by the gun shots and explosions.


It wasn’t long before the Russian gunmen encountered a second wave of police, including a heavily armed SWAT team. Again they ruthlessly shot their way through but not without taking casualties, five had become three as two of the men lay dead amidst a dozen more dead police. Now on Aragon Street they maintained a lethal line of fire as they ran though gardens and alleys.


A police helicopter had joined the pursuit with a police marksman taking careful shots with a high powered sniper rifle, the first three shots embedded harmlessly in the ground but the forth was a perfect headshot leaving only two now desperate gunmen sprinting as fast as their legs could carry them. The marksman picked them off with his next two shots, earning him boisterous applause from his colleagues over the police radio.


Phil sat nervously in the safe house, with an assault shotgun aimed at the front door ready to blast anyone who kicked it in. He had heard the gun fire and had seen some of the battle, his car was among the many that had been blown up. When the shooting first began he had phoned Come Clean and shouted at a flustered Gusmano Cesare, a soldier in Roy’s crew, who happened to be passing the phone. Gusmano had immediately jumped in a car with Frank ‘Frankie D’ DeGrazio and sped up to Meadows Park to rescue Phil.


When they reached him they found him poised to shoot, “Whoa Phil it’s us! Whatta f*ck happened?”

“I dunno Gene went out, then all hell broke loose.”

“Wese betta getta outta here.”

“F*ck yeah Frankie!”


The three men hurried down to Gusmano’s parked Intruder and set off for the security of Broker.



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a familiar irish folk song crackled to life on the dusty jukebox,after scoffing down a large handful of over salty penuts and gulping down the last dregs of hard irish whisky i got off the stiff,tattered red stool and walked out to the car park.

the bitter evening wind brushed past my face as i struggled to fit the keys into the lock of the car when a drowning low voice souned behind me,

"i hope your not playing to drive that car sir"

i turned around to see a tall dark skinned man standing in a dark blue suit.

"sir,step away from the vehicle"

the keys shimmered in the street lamps as i dart to a nearby house ,i jumped over the fence and lept into the yard ,the cop was giving swift pursuit i reached into my pocket and pulled out a glock i stumbled and fell as i tryed to throw it away .the police man hammered a baton into my back,i felt a sharp hard pain as everything went black.

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Hope you don't mind, but here are a couple of tips, brownbear-


1.) Capitalize your I's and important names (of a person, place), and also letters at the beginning of a sentence.


2.) Put spaces after commas, and periods.


3.) Spell check and proper punctuation


4.) Paragraph structure


5.) don't use run-on sentences.


Just from those tips, your story should look like this:



A familiar Irish folk song crackled to life on the dusty jukebox. After scoffing down a large handful of over salty peanuts and gulping down the last dregs of hard Irish whiskey I got off the stiff, tattered red stool and walked out to the car park. The bitter evening wind brushed past my face as I struggled to fit the keys into the lock of the car when a drowning low voice sounded behind me.


"I hope you're not playing to drive that car sir." I turned around to see a tall, dark skinned man standing in a dark blue suit. "Sir, step away from the vehicle."


The keys shimmered in the street lamps as I darted to a nearby house, jumped over it's fence and lept into the yard. The cop was giving swift pursuit as I reached into my pocket and pulled out a glock. I stumbled and fell as I tried to throw it away. The police man hammered a baton into my back, and I felt a sharp hard pain as everything went black.


Looks a lot better now, eh?



Some sentences were run-on and there were a lot of punctual mistakes, but your story had some good detail at the beginning!


On a side note, I am thinking of joining a gang, this looks great.

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Colt M14

That info is pretty nifty for some newer writers. And if you are going to join, Welcome. You seem like a nice guy.

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This is my first BUYG story in months, so please forgive me if the quality or length isn't as good as previous story. It borrows elements from my old Petrovic stories, but takes it in a new direction.


Petrovic Bratva


A New Beginning....


Liberty City, where the only dirty word is hope. The city that never sleeps. A place where crime is king and misery is supreme. It's like prison without the walls or uninvited man-love. Why anybody would want to live in this concrete Hell is beyond me. Us immigrants live here because we have to. Most of us are poor, have no prospects, and are hated by the American-born majority. That's why so many of us turned to crime, including me. We all turned to crime to support ourselves, to keep food on our tables, clothes on our backs, and a roof on our head. Just one thing if you ever visit this place, never fall in Liberty City. Nobody will be there to catch you.


I am Leon Bakura and this is my story of life on the mean streets of Liberty City.....


It was another evening in Broker, the homeless wandered the streets ragged and half-dead, the mothers held their children tight, the druggies crashed, and the Albanian scumbags sold their drugs and even their own grandmothers for ten bucks. I was just headed towards the 69th Street Diner, working for my boss, the Russian mobster Vlad Zhukov. He was a mid-level guy in the Petrovic Bratva, the largest Russian Bratva syndicate in the state of New York, with operations in upper New Jersey, particularly Alderney County. I was a mere errand boy for Mr. Zhukov, all I did was transport stolen merchandise and guns from the docks and deliver them to a warehouse in Dukes. But Mr. Zhukov told me of something big for me.


As I walked through the noisy and polluted Broker streets to the alley behind the diner, Mr. Zhukov waited for me at the car, a black 2005 Rebla. Vlad was a tall, muscular, menacing man, with dark brown hair and souless gray eyes. He stood there, dressed in his black coat and sunglasses. He spoke to me...


"Leon, my young friend. How are you doing, comrade?"


"Fine, Mr. Zhukov. What is it that you wanted from me?"


"Right, listen, there's a new high on the streets, goes by the name of SPANK. The Albanians and the Spanish Lords are dealing it all over the city. We think their supplier is the Torres Cartel. However, we can't just wait here and let them get away with it. We must let them know that Mr. Petrovic doesn't want these low-life gangbangers dealing their poison all over the city, especially if it's from some syndicate as small-time as the Torres Cartel. Mr. Petrovic wanted me to send someone good to take down the local drug dealers in Hove Beach. I figured since you were a good driver and quite loyal, you could do this for me."


He handed me a Glock 17, silenced, with special tape on the trigger and handle.


"Use this to kill the bastards. It can't be traced to you and it's taped so it won't leave prints. The dealers are all with the Albanian gang under the command of Heinrich Brevic, brother of the late Darko Brevic. Word is that they are meeting at Firefly Projects with a Torres supplier. Kill all of them, drop the gun, and get the f*ck out of there. Meet me at Lin Pingguo's place in Algonquin. You know Lin Pingguo, right? She's young, about 28, but she's smart, and runs a curio shop in Chinatown. It used to belong to her mother, now she inherited it and now she runs prostitution and gambling for the Triads out of that shop. Who knows, we might celebrate if you come back in one piece. We'll give you a place to lay low."


We shook hands, and Mr. Zhukov handed me the keys to the car. Driving down the crowded streets, the only thing keeping me sane was the radio. By the time I reached Firefly Projects, night fell. Firefly Projects was a run-down, dilapidated place, with broken windows, weathered bricks, and flickering street lights with wires hanging out. I snuck around, hiding behind the trash can, my gun in the jacket. I waited for what seemed to be an hour, bored out of my mind. Then, I found what I came for.


Two cars came up. Out stepped three men, the light revealed two Albanians in ragged street clothes and a tall Puerto Rican in a Hawaiian Shirt, khakis, and a gray fishing hat.


One Albanian spoke.


"Yo, Paco. You got the SPANK?"


The Puerto Rican replied "Si, amigo. I got some real good stuff. High quality, will make you all rich. Give Mr. Brevic my regards. Also, be careful when in Algonquin, both the Mafia and the Triads are drawing a hard line at the narcotics trade. The Triads are trying to extend their influence beyond Chinatown and the Mafia families are playing it safe after Jon Gravelli's death."


I drew my gun and aimed at the Cartel member. Squeezing the trigger, I heard a snip sound and a bullet hit the supplier in the head, shatterintg his skull into a splash of vermillion. The Albanians screamed and ran for the car. I fired at both of them, getting one in the back causing him to scream and fall, and getting the other in the head, shattering his skull and spraying a bloody mist all over. Blood pooled around the now unconscious drug dealer I hit in the back. I knew he would die. Throwing my gun in a trash bin, I drove off to Algonquin, my stomach aching out of guilt and my body trembling out of fear. After hours of worry and heavy traffic, I reached the brightly lit slums of Chinatown, looking for a curio shop. And there it was, a two-story building with a wide glass window revealing all sorts of different goods. The sign on the window was written in both English and Chinese. It read "LIN FAMILY GOODS". I knew it was the place.


I parked the car, entering the place, hoping to find Mr. Zhukov inside. The main room was brightly lit, with all sorts of little trinkets, decorations, art work, and other assorted objects on the shelves. There stood a cute young Asian woman at the counter, in her late twenties, with black silky hair, pale skin, and slightly slanted, yet large anime-like eyes. The woman spoke to me "Can I help you?"


"Yes, ma'am. I'm looking for Vlad Zhukov."


She replied in her sweet, chirpy voice "Oh, you must be Leon. Mr. Zhukov told me about you, he's upstairs with the girls. I'll unlock the door, just go upstairs."


I walked up a narrow wooden staircase, and entered the second story. There was a beautiful, well-decorated casino, with a bar and everything. The decor and atmosphere was very Chinese, with Chinese artwork all over the red walls. People were at the gambling tables, and girls in black underwear, almost all of them Asian, hung out with them. I looked over and there was Mr. Zhukov, standing next to a girl and a young Triad thug, dressed in a white T-shirt, black leather jacket, and blue jeans. I walked over, making my way through the gamblers and prostitutes.


"Mr. Zhukov, the job is done. Two Albanians and a Cartel dude. I took care of them for you."


"Good job, kid. You look distressed, don't worry, we'll take care of this. Relax, have a drink, play some blackjack, maybe spend the night with one of the girls. And meet my friend Henry Wong. Henry, meet Leon Bakura, my best guy. Leon, this is Henry, one of my comrades. He's one of the Triads' best hitmen. He can give you a place to lay low here in Chinatown. From now on, meet me here for more work. Broker's gonna be a little too hot. I'll send Henry for your things."

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(Story #6)

Episode One, "Vicissitude", Part Six

"So what. It's a big f*ckin' machine."


"So what?!" Gino stared at Joel incredulously. "This, gentlemen, is the foundation of the new Pegorino empire," he effused. "Recycling is the new market, the new industry, and this is going to make us rich men."


Ten men stood or wandered in an open space between the two enormous garbage processing plants, machines with pipes, cables, ducts, sorters, all manner of blades, and, at the northern end, piles and piles of garbage. "Yeah, well, Phil Bell was no idiot," Leo remarked.


"I'm telling yas, Philly was a f*ckin' genius. Bought it just before..." Gino hesitated, and rephrased, "bought it just a month ago."


"Do we got work for it?" Dom asked.


"No, well, it's Alderney City for now," Gino replied, a little sheepishly, "but she'll handle Algonquin, so we gotta expand." Gino sat down behind a makeshift desk at the northern end of the open space. "Is this all of us?" Sammy Lodioso stood to the right of Gino's desk as the other eight men stood or tried to sit on makeshift chairs.


On Gino's right, after Sammy, Joel sat nonchalantly on a pile of boxes, right leg on a toolbox, more facing the others than Gino. Lou smiled at the body language. Behind Joel, Slugger stood, arms folded. Next to Joel, Dom "The Fridge" stood at the end of the row, with Joey G next to him sitting on an upturned toolbox he found. Leo Torini, next to him, stood trying to fix his handkerchief on the grease- and waste-stained metal railing so as to sit on it. Joey Ventura stood beside Leo so as to stand behind Franny, until Big Lou had swapped places with Franny to move him to Gino's immediate left. Big Lou leaned against the railing, Franny tentatively sat his large frame on a wooden box Ventura got for him, hoping to God he wouldn't break the thing and embarrass himself. Every man had his place, and every place had a man, but one.


"Yeah, well, Tommy Tuna's in a coma, on account of the explosion th'safternoon, but I'll stand for him," Dom said. Everyone nodded appreciatively.


"F*ckin' Russian c*cksuckers," Joel spat, extending a hand to Dom.


"Alright, we'll get to that," Gino said. "Let me begin by saying Jackie's working on reinforcing this place. It's our new headquarters. In fact, up there will be," he said, pointing to an office block suspended over a workshop. "The machine noise should take care o' bugs, and the traffic will make it a cinch for cover," he said, adding, "And you're all gonna be employees."


"But, before that," Gino said, rubbing his hands together nervously. All eyes focused intently on him, and he could feel them. His next words were spoken at speed, as though to rush through the unpleasantness. "The only way this is gonna work is to adhere to the rules. We work by a code, Gentlemen, and that code says I should be the next Boss o' this family."


"Here, here!" Joel shouted, Slugger nodding in furious agreement. Dom nodded, too. But, these were not the enthusiastic agreements Gino needed.


Moment of truth, Franny sighed, swallowing hard. "It's a big responsibility, Gino." Big Lou almost choked.


Every eye turned to Franny in anticipation of his next words. Slugger's powerful arms fell to his side, tensing himself into readiness, and Joey Ventura responded in kind. Leo couldn't believe what he was hearing. While Sammy's eyes opened wider with each passing quarter-second, his disbelief only growing. And finally, Franny finished his sentence.


"And I'm sure you'll do a great job." No man let on, but every man finally exhaled. Big Lou just smiled as each man stood to congratulate the new boss, and shot Franny a knowing glance as they each collected a shot of liquor in celebration. Franny had acquiesced, but he'd shown Gino the gun in his belt. Cries of "Salute" followed, and the men returned to the pressing business of dividing the spoils of defeat.


"We were thirty, and now we're ten. But, we cannot," Gino said, slamming his palm on the desk, "simply cannot allow what was built up by this Family to fall into the hands of others."


With a small measure of sombreness, the assets of each buttonman now six feet under was compiled and reallocated. Johnny Sollozzo would report to Leo, Jimmy DiMeo's union crew to Franny, Joey G finally gained Phil's long-promised Bohan brothel that Joey practically ran for Phil, 'Mendy' Lucadello's Alderney chop-shop to Lou, and 'Frankie' Trevena's chop shop to Tommy Tuna, and each was appreciated. Yet each man silently gasped when protection territories were reassigned. Only Leo spoke.


"This is a big ask, all this new territory when we don't yet got our own under control."


No one responded, though they might have agreed, and Gino simply sat at the desk toying with a pen, briefly looking up to Sammy.


"Please, Leo, share with the rest of the group your concerns," Sammy said sarcastically.


"The streets are rebellin'," Leo replied, oblivious to Sammy's sarcasm. "This morning, me 'n' Doc got chased by jewelers and bakers with baseball bats. If we can't hold... I mean, shouldn't we try to hold what we have before...-"


"NO!" Sammy shouted. "We fight for what is rightfully ours, and we take no sh!t. From no one. Not a single inch of what is ours gets left to the Pavanos or Ancelottis. You lean on your associates for help, you go f*ckin' nuts on these jewelers and bakers and you f*ck them up!


"We take no sh!t from nobody!" Sammy, realising he'd spoken well ahead of his position, turned to Gino for reaffirmation. Gino obliged.


"I agree," Gino added. "I don't care how we do this, rely on your associates hard, recruit some more, but you take control of what is now yours."


"So, should we beat up Korean grocers and jewman jewelers to...-"


"I'm not interested, Leo, in how you do what you do," Gino interjected. "Just get it done."


"And while we're on you, Leo, what is the situation with 'Numbers'?"


"Oh yeah, he's bein' a pr!ck."


Carmine 'Numbers' Fortunato ran two poker machine casinos on Leo's turf under Phil, but with Phil gone, Carmine's allegiance was wavering. So, Gino dispatched Leo to "encourage" Carmine to remain with the Pegorinos. For Leo's trouble, he explained, Doc took bullets in his windshield.


"Alright, then." Gino considered his options a moment. "Joel, you take it...-" Leo dropped his chin and shook his head.


"WHAT?!" Lou stood angrily. "Leo's man got shot-up by this guy. You can't give it to...-"


"Lou, Lou, Lou, calm down," Sammy insisted, stepping forward to placate Lou. "We need a man with an... aggressive salesmanship. Who better than Joel to, ah, set things right?"


"It isn't right, Sammy," Franny offered passively. "It's on Leo's patch...-"


"Hey!" Sammy retorted, pointing a threatening finger at Franny. "There's no patches that don't belong to Gino first, Franny, you know this."


That was a fact repeatedly reinforced by each retention of the more lucrative assets for Gino himself. The Crugnali wireroom that Phil had long promised to the guy actually running it, Joey G, went to Gino. The Algonquin restaurant (though Dom gratefully gained Ray Boccino's 'Fig' Marzella, who ran the food markets), Fritzie Zaluchi's racket, the strip club, and the Algonquin garbage business, all now Gino's. And each time, Lou, Leo and Joey Ventura shook their heads in silent but increasing disbelief.


While Franny kept his tongue, Lou's festering resentment was overpowering his self-control. Perhaps saving him, Lou was unable to offer his assessment of these allocations -- "You want the kitchen sink, too?" -- as the northern door to the plant was opened by Phil Gurino, Sammy's bodyguard.


"Sorry, boss, I know you said no interruptions, but this kid insists Leo...-"


Leo stood and stepped forward, urgently. "What's the news, Doc?"


"It was his place, Leo," Doc yelled a mere couple of steps inside. "There's grenades poppin' regularly, but some locals say they saw two guys carried trunks out to a van before the fire."


"Leo, what the f*ck is this all about?" Sammy demanded.


"It was Carlo Clemenza's place. Some f*ckers, probably the Pavanos, have taken the stash and burned the place to the f*ckin' ground."


"F*ckin' c*cksuckers!" Joel screamed, joining all-but Gino in lamentations.


"Pardon me, but what stash? And isn't Carlo dead?" Gino asked, popping an antacid, looking up at Sammy.


"Phil arranged a back-up weapons cache in Carlo's penthouse," Big Lou explained. "Any weapons not lost in the, uh, shoot-out or when the cops raided Jimmy's house were all there."


"The only weapons or ammunition we have left now is in each man here's jacket," Leo summarised.


Gurino pulled Doc back outside and the northern door closed. Over the shaking of heads, Gino spoke. "Alright, if they've taken Carlo Clemenza's cache, then we're a little under-armed. Options?"


"We got enough money to buy some?"


"To replace that lot is gonna take some major cash."


"And the underground arms shops aren't gonna sell us that much. They're all like nickles and dimes sh!t. They don't do major weight."


Gino leaned forward. "Then I say we hit them. Take their sh!t and f*ck their sensibilities."


"Ohhh" and "F*ck" echoed around the room.


"Gino, I understand where you're coming from, but..."


"This isn't a small step, Gino," Big Lou said with as much conciliatory body-language as he could muster. "Two of the shops are backed by biker gangs and the third by the Triads." Lou tread carefully, for it was a formative time for a Boss. Not good to start out slapping down the boss's new ideas. "We start f*cking with these and we're bringing some major heat down on us."


"Not to mention the cops," Franny added. "Something this big will get noticed. And Mayor Ochoa's big achievement is cracking down on the gun trade."


And then, to all's surprise, Joel stepped forward to speak. "Boss, I gotta say, however unpalatable it might be," he said without a wry smirk, "I think I agree with Big Lou and Franny.


"We f*ck the Triads and bikers over, we're gonna need the guns just to fight them off, and then the Pavanos and Ancelottis can pick at our bones."


"Alright, I hear you all," Gino said, screwing up his face and crunching down hard on another antacid. "But, remember, the aggregate of our firepower is pop-guns. The Pavanos may now have our few machine guns, and still pick at our bones.


"Alright, we'll leave my option aside," he said, scratching the underside of his chin. "But give me something else to work with. And f*cking soon."


Gino picked up the list of assets he scrawled down as they'd called them out earlier, and "Hmph"ed. They not only needed guns, but people, he explained, and was proposing three guys get their 'buttons': Gerry Fontanarossa, Gino's bodyguard and driver; Nicky Tramunti, Joel's protege, also known (though not to his face) as "Whitey" on account of his hair; and Philip 'Hatchet' Gurino, Sammy's best guy.


"On your advice, Big Lou, I've not proposin' Quiet Mikey," Gino said. "But, I'm not sure you can hold him down much longer."


"It's not about holding anyone down, Gino. He's not ready. He thinks he is, but his loyalty, so far, only extends to himself. The family should come first, and he doesn't get that."


"Alright, Lou. On the others, everyone agreed?" Lou looked at Franny who shrugged. Angie Peppone and Nicky Nails would both have to wait. But both men non-verbally noted the three new soldiers would all hail from the Gino-Sammy-Joel side of the family.


Yet, a chorus of murmurs and nods, however reluctant, followed, and Gino allocated Aldo Tessio's counterfeiting business to Nicky.


"And now this building." Gino's hands began fidgeting. "I'm going to give the recycling plant to Sammy, as befitting his new position of Captain."


Predictably, Joel and Slugger were quick to offer cheers and their hands in congratulations, and Dom joined-in happily. But, so too did Franny, who even hugged Sammy in congratulations. Why not, Lou thought. Afterall, those hugging men would be Gino's captains in a moment, and would need to patch-up anything in their way. Lou, Joey Ventura and Leo also shook Sammy's hand.


"Now, I am not unaware that there is some level of expectation, a 'quid pro quo' if you will, in this moment," Gino said, crunching down on yet another antacid. "But, we're a small family now, and certain ideas some people may have need to be put on hold since we are not big enough to hold them."


Faces that were smiles were now crossed with confusion.


"In short, certain decisions I have to make as Boss are not particularly palatable, but, f*ck it, what needs to be, needs to be said.


"We are too small to have two leaders, so, for now, until we grow, Sammy will be the only Captain I'm promoting."


"WHAT?!" Franny's face betrayed the depth of his disappointment.


"You've got to be f*ckin' kidding!"


"What the flying F*CK!"


Only a few seconds of dissent would be tolerated. "Hey! HEY! You f*ckers just f*ckin' remember who's the boss here!" Sammy Lodioso shouted, veins popping in his neck.


"You all agreed, you all stood there and agreed that Giovanno would take the responsibility for the decisions that have to be made.


"And now he's f*ckin' made one and you're all f*ckin' rebelling?!


"Now you're ungrateful muthaf*ckers?" Sammy stood, his finger menacingly pointing at the unhappy men on his left


"It's a hard decision, Gino," Joel offered doing his best to feign a conciliatory tone, "but you the boss, Boss."


"This is f*ckin' bullsh!t, Gino, and you know it!"


Gino, not looking at Lou, fumbled with some antacid tablets and took a swig of his water.


"Perhaps it is, Lou, but it's Gino's bullsh!t now," Sammy said through beared-teeth. "Just you f*ckin' remember whose nuts are on the wall, now, who the Pavanos and Ancelottis are gonna be gunnin' for. Gino's, that's whose.


"He's the boss, now, and don't you f*ckin' forget it."


Atop the roof, Al stood beside the quiet air-conditioning unit listening to the screaming inside the factory, and, changing the subject, stared to the east. "That's quite a sight, doncha reckon."




"Under the Skyway bridge, the lights of Algonquin blinking over the water like that."


Vinny just stared at him. "You're f*ckin' strange, Nino."


"Oh what? You can't look at that sh!t and tell me it's not a magnificent sight?"


Vinny snorted. "Alright, you know what I see? A bunch o' fa**ots in their ivory tower apartments just waitin' for guys like me to come and free them of the money they think they hard-earned, but really just ripped-it off dumb shlubs like my ole man."


"Woah," Al replied, arms raised, backing away. "I'm lookin at lights, here. What the f*ck are you lookin' at?"


"My ole man worked fifty years a builder. Ran his own crew for thirty. Saved like a jew. He had this massive nest-egg for him an' my Mom, and invested it with some fa**ot banker in some swanky f*ckin' apartment. Now, he aint got sh!t of it. 'Bad market,' they said. But, I know the f*cker fled to San Andreas. Prob'ly blew it in a casino."


"Woah. That's f*ckin' sh!tty, Vinny. I didn't know."


"Yeah, well, now you do," he said. He paused a moment, then thoughtfully added, "I ever find that f*cker, I'm gonna cut his legs off with a rusty spoon, let 'im bleed to death, like my ole man will."


Al turned away from to look at the lights. Same vista, different view.


"So, stop lookin' at pretty lights and look out for Pavano or Russian f*ckers."


"Yeah. Sure, Vinny."


Al needn't have bothered, the yelling inside the building had stopped, and cellphones all over the roof began ringing. Soon after, cars arrived, and Al and Big Lou jumped into the PMP Nicky Nails was driving.


"Don't f*ckin' ask, either of you," Lou spat. "It's been a f*ckin' long day. This morning, I was shot at, then bombed, shouted at, and now Franny's been pissed on.


"Just get me the f*ck home."


Al wasn't unhappy with that sentiment. It's been a long, dangerous day, but they'd survived. Tomorrow might be different.


I am genuinely interested in feedback. If you'd prefer not to clog the thread, feel free to PM instead.

And sorry this took me a loooong time to finish -- three weeks -- and I'm sorry it's so long, too. To my loyal readers (all two of you ;D ), I promise the second episode definitely gets more action.


This story earned $45 and the comment "Good, complicated but good."


(I've just noticed: They ever turn my story into a film, you can bet there'll be one of those "Family Rising, the f*cking short version" on Youtube before long. Thirty-five "f*ck"s in this scene alone! Sheesh!)


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Edited by aragond

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Thanks Colt, but I'm not sure if I'll join as I can't seem to figure out a gang to write for. I guess I should re-play IV and listen to the information about various gangs, and possibly search around the GTA Wikia.

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If you're interested in the Russian Mafia, you could join the Petrovic Bratva. Maybe we could collaborate.

Edited by Osric

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Time to join up (finally!)


I'm gonna go Petrovic Bratva a.k.a Russian Mafia. When I wrote for the Ballas I wrote them as very organized, quite strange for just a street gang.

Place me at The Cabaret Club in Broker, please. biggrin.gif

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Thanks Colt, but I'm not sure if I'll join as I can't seem to figure out a gang to write for. I guess I should re-play IV and listen to the information about various gangs, and possibly search around the GTA Wikia.

the LCPD database is better than Wiki, I have seen many errors on Wiki it's better to go to the source. A recent one I've been puzzling over is Wiki (original) saying Westminster is Greenwich Village, it just can't be, has none of the landmarks, the geography is all wrong and the buildings are the wrong type, I think it is actually City Hall or not in Liberty City at all.

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Since I know the Ancelottis won't be released until late October/early November, and chances are, unless BoGT reveals more information on the other families, we probably won't see anything of the Lupinsellas or Messinas, I will stick with the Petrovics for a while before joining either the Gambettis or Ancelottis(Depending on how school plays out will determine how often I can post stories. So a 5-10 story arc could take a few weeks or a few months depeding on how heavy the work load is for this year.)


On another note, here's some gangs we could add for BUYG IV. I know that two will be added eventually, but I'm mentioning them to garner support for an early release. As for the other families, well, you included the Koreans and Pavanos, who only play very minor roles in the game, so why not add the other Mafia families as well?


Ancelotti Family

Messina Family

Lupinsella Family

North Dominican Drug Dealers

Roth Syndicate


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I like an idea Tyla suggested of introducing new gangs with one slot each and if they are popular they will develop if not they will remain small gangs, I am fully in support of the five families all being included, Ancelottis first then the Lupisellas and I don't think it matters the order for the rest.


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Sounds good to me. I like the idea of one slot per gang. If the Lupinsellas or Ancelottis are added like that, then reserve me a spot.

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I'm quiting BUYG blush.gif


I don't really have the time to write long stories and it doesn't look like I'll be getting more time soon. Sorry guys, but keeping me is a waste of space and there are probarly other guys who could take me place who will actually write.. tounge.gif

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Ill join The Pavano Family's Marco's Tobacco & Beer Shop

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