Solomon's City

[The Unvirginiser]

 

Solomon’s City

 

Story

 

Scott Tyson grew up on the ‘Birdy Estate’ in Salford, a renowned shithole that has spawned all sorts of dangerous criminals over the years. After turning to a life of crime at the age of sixteen, Scott became mixed in with some very dangerous people.

After being incarcerated in San Andreas correctional facility for his involvement in the King crime spree, Scott decides to turn his life around. He doesn’t want to be just another faceless thug anymore. After the Damien King’s death, Manchester is open to anybody bold enough to try and take it.

 

Prepare to follow Scott through four decades of sex, betrayal and murder. Witness his rise to the top, and learn why the city ultimately belongs to ‘Solomon’.

 

 

 

 

Gangs

 

 

The Salford Mob

 

A scaled down version of the Sicilian Mafia. These men run every business they can get their hands on, supported by well financed and distinguished men. The Salford Mob controls various rackets throughout the city, as well as many of the popular nightclubs in the city centre.

 

Cheatham Hill

 

An organised group, who have rivalled and warred with the Salford Mob. Beware of the Cheatham Hill gang, they run a large amount of the drug businesses in and out of Manchester, and have some very dangerous men at their disposal.

 

 

The Slicksters

 

Widely considered one the most feared gang in the city, consisting mainly of a black population. The Slicksters operate out of Moss Side and control all of the drugs and weapons in South Manchester. Murders are shooting are not uncommonly associated with them.

 

 

The Gypsies

 

Living out of various camp sites across the city, these rough, hard fighting criminals will rob you blind the first chance they get. Never trust a gypsy, and never cross one. Remember, they have nothing to lose.

 

 

The Red Flames

 

A mainly Asian gang, operating in various communities such as Rusholme, Oldham and Bolton. Not very powerful or influential, but get enough of them together and they can cause all kinds of hell.

 

 

 

 

Regions

 

Manchester City Centre

 

Most of the city’s druggies, insomniacs and criminals tend to gather here. No place is guaranteed to be safe at night, so always take care; trouble could be lurking around any corner. Apart from that, Manchester is an exciting, vibrant city. Its club scene is widely regarded as one of the best in Britain. It has everything, from a gay village to student bars. Make sure you take advantage of the fantastic nightlife.

 

 

Salford

 

A heavily populated region, often regarded as ‘Crime Capital’ of Britain. A majority of the houses are either flats or council estates, but Salford isn’t without its fair share of mansions in some of the finer districts, including the famed ‘Millionaire’s row’. It has no absence of pubs and bookmakers, which doesn’t always make a good combination.

 

Trafford

 

Mostly made of an industrial estate which runs adjacent with the river. Trafford employs a large amount of Manchester’s working class, hiring them in the many factories and docks.

 

Bolton

 

A large town in the country side, where they speak with a famously strange accent. Bolton has a large Asian community, who have their own internal gang problems. These include turf wars, protection rackets and occasionally, kidnapping.

 

Oldham

 

Like Bolton, a town made up highly of the Asian community, who have many crime related struggles. Try to avoid Oldham if you can, it has its own club district which isn’t as glamorous as Manchester’s.

 

Cheatham Hill

 

An area very similar to Salford, relating to crime and residential districts. Cheatham Hill contains the city’s main prison; a terrible eyesore which ruins the bit of scenery that Cheatham hill has tried so desperately to maintain.

 

Moss Side

 

An area which is mainly made up of the black community. Manchester’s police force has an enormous problem with the amount of guns that come through this district. The amount of shootings and murders are frighteningly severe. Rumour has it that a sophisticated, multi level street gang control all aspects of Moss side – Including shops, pubs, taxi companies and the local drug dealers.

 

Longsight

 

Extremely similar to Moss Side, and controlled by practically the same gangs. Try to avoid Longsight, it doesn’t have much to offer except crime and corruption. Made up of terraced streets and council estates, guns and drugs are this area’s main economy.

 

Map of Manchester

 

This story is entirely fictional. To enjoy the experience fully, please read Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas Stories, if you are unsure about any details regarding the plot then don't hesitate to contact me. All characters mentioned are ficitonal, and any similarities to real people are purely coinsidence. The story and all its characters belong to me.

 

Enjoy, and please leave feedback.

 

 

Edited February 7, 2010 by The Unvirginiser

[The Unvirginiser]

 

Introduction

 

 

13:30 - Thursday – June 12th – 1987

 

About five miles from Las Venturas…

 

 

In the middle of the San Andreas desert, a rural town stands isolated from the bright lights of Venturas. A single, white Church towers above the rooftops. Outside, on the stone steps, a group of mourners assemble for a funeral. A news helicopter flies past the screen; we hear the female reporter’s voice.

 

Reporter: Mourners anxiously await the arrival of convicted felon Scott Tyson, an enforcer of the King family, who’s crime wave has engulfed Venturas over the last few months. After the death of his cousin Mark Taylor, his Manchester based lawyers convinced the warden at San Andreas correctional facility to allow Tyson to pay his respects at the funeral. WCTR eagerly awaits the arrival of the police convoy, who will place him under armed guard throughout the entire funeral proceeding.

 

The police convoy arrives; three squad cars surround an armoured truck. It slows to a halt in front of the church steps. The officers step out and make a strategically formation around the truck’s door. Once the captain gives the nod, the thick, steel doors are opened. Casually, Scott Tyson steps out and on to the tarmac below. A handsome man, but he stills retains the face of a fierce bulldog, ready to snap at anybody who crosses him. He stretches his handcuffed arms at full length, flexing his massive forearms and biceps. The sun gleams off his shaven head, the first sunlight he’d seen in days. Even though he was relatively short, he maintained a frightening presence. His wide shoulders and solid chest practically burst out of the thin orange jumpsuit that he’d been dressed in.

 

Reporter: And here he is, with an entourage of shotgun wielding police officers. Scott Tyson has arrived, the man who was once destined to control the streets of Manchester. Now he’s incarcerated, and is currently enjoying his last experience in the free, open world.

 

Scott slowly walked towards the steps with a smirk on his face, he knew what was about to happen. Some of the mourners looked disgusted at his arrival; others smiled and nodded to him. The camera moves slowly up towards the top of the bell tower. Inside, a figure fumbled around in the shadows, assembling a SG-550 assault rifle. As Scott reached the stone steps, the figure placed the gun on to a tripod and took his first shot.

 

It sounded as though a space ship had just zoomed across the sky, everybody instinctively jumped to the ground as the bullet sliced through the air. One of the armed guards busted open with a shower of blood. Scott took his queue and elbowed the nearest one to him straight in the nose. Another shot rung out which sent a rouge leg skipping across the ground in a spray of blood and bone fragments. Two mourners in the crowd withdrew machine guns and began shooting at the police officers. The distinct sound of sniper fire kept ringing out shot after shot. The entourage was soon cut down before they had a chance to apprehend their prisoner.

The two machine gun toting mourners made their way to Scott. They spoke with thick British accents.

 

British thug: You’re a free man again Scott.

Scott: Thanks, can you do the honours?

 

He held out the handcuffs.

 

Thug: Of course.

 

The thug pulled out a razor sharp hatchet from his jacket and hacked down the middle of the chain.

 

Scott: Thanks, you got something for me?

Thug: Course I have.

 

He withdrew a grey submachine gun from a backpack.

 

Thug: Time to make a move I think.

 

He began to shout up to the bell tower...

 

Thug: Angel, all clear!

 

A rope fell down from the darkness and the man whizzed down it like a superhero.

 

Scott: So you’re Angel then?

 

Angel was the most un-angelic person he’d ever met. He was dressed head to toe in black, with a silver rifle and a grey tactical vest. He had short, dark hair and black sunglasses. All he knew of this man was that he was a mercenary, a free lance, one man army who always got the job done. He was obviously American, and looked aggravated by the presence of the British thugs.

 

Angel: I’m here to get you to safety. Our ride should be here soon, as well as the police’s backup. You two stay the hell out of my way and don’t get either of us killed.

 

The two thugs reacted with looks of disgust.

 

Thug: Hey, we’ve been sent here to save him too.

Angel: Well I’m here to do my job, so get in my scope and I’m putting you down, understand?

Thug: Hey, just because you’re dressed like Jack Howitzer doesn’t give you the right to-

Scott: Back off lads! When’s this car coming?

Angel: It’s here Mr. Tyson, be patient.

 

In the distance, the blurry wake of a patriot racing across the sands became visible.

 

Thug: You hear that?

 

Sirens crept closer from the other side of the town.

 

Angel: My partner’s driving; you two get in and keep your mouths shut. I’m in the back and I’m gonna’ fire from the sunroof. Mr. Tyson, You get in the back seat and pick of anything I miss through the rear window. You two cover our flanks in case any cops sneak up.

Thug: Flanks?

Angel: The sides of the car…

Thug: Oh, flanks! I thought you said-

Angel: Shut your mouths, here he is.

 

The patriot skids to a halt, sending up a cloud of sand. The men climb in just as the police backup tears around the corner.

 

End of Cut Scene

 

The camera is inside the patriot; Angel stands on the seats, firing from the sunroof. The two thugs fire from the side windows, aim out of the back and open fire on the pursuing cop cars. Aim for the closer cars, the submachine gun has a shorter range then Angel’s rifle. Its frightening firepower makes your hair stand on end every time he fires. The cop cars maintain their pursuit, trying to stand up to the heavy firepower.

 

Scott: Where are we going?

Angel: A little dock just north of here, we’re gonna’ smuggle you to San Fierro as cargo. The sooner we shake the police the better.

 

Keep up the gunfire, a few of the cop cars back off, but there’s still a group of determined officers who keep up with your patriot. Keep firing, trying to hit the drivers of the cars.

 

Thug: I’m out of ammo!

Scott: Same!

Other thug: Me as well.

 

Angel kills the driver of the last police car.

 

Angel: Well, that’s the last of them, straight on to the docks.

Scott: Angel!

 

The camera zooms in to a bullet wound that Angel’s partner has in the back of his head. The car veers off the road and on to a sand dune. Scott pulls Angel down from the sun roof just in time as the Patriot flies off the top of the hill and down to the sand, twenty feet below.

 

Cut Scene

 

The car flies through the air, slowly it flips upside down and collides with the ground, roof first. Inside the car, the group is thrown all over in the violent crash. Angel holds Scott down on the seat to avoid injury. The thug in the front seat is saved by an air bag, but then crushed to death by his friend sat behind him. Angel protects Scott from any injuries and lands directly in the dead driver’s airbag.

 

The screen fades to black, and then fades back in with a first person view. Angel slowly drags Scott from the smoking wreckage. He takes a quick glance at his dead partner and then hands Scott one of the machine guns that the British thugs had.

 

 

Angel: You okay to shoot?

Scott: I’m fine.

Angel: Good, dock’s a little north from here; we shouldn’t run in to any trouble.

 

The camera zooms back out to a third person view. Follow the on screen instructions for controls of movement, aiming and running. Follow Angel north to the dock. He cautiously jogs, occasionally aiming around with his rifle, scoping for any trouble. Luckily, you escape the law and reach the blue marker in front of the boat.

 

Angel: Climb aboard and hide in between those cargo crates. Keep that cover over you and we’ll be fine.

 

Cut Scene

 

Inside a derelict boat house, Damien King sits behind a desk. He throws darts at a battered and worn down board. There’s a brief knock on the door, Angel and Scott enter.

 

Damien: Scott, what did I tell you? I knew you wouldn’t spend the rest of your life in that sh*thole.

Scott: No thanks to you…

 

Damien gives a sarcastic smile and stretches his arms.

 

Damian: And that’s supposed to mean…?

Scott: I spent weeks grafting and fighting with all those American prisoners for my freedom, how else do you think I hired this Merc?

Damien: Well who sent those two guys to help out?

Scott: What a lot of good they did; cannon fodder.

Angel: I’ve delivered your boy, and now I’ve gotta’ go.

Damien: Thank you Angel.

Scott: Yeah, sorry about your partner mate.

Angel: He was more of an associate, forgive my flattery.

Scott: Whatever, thanks again.

 

Angel briefly smiled and then left.

Damien fumbled in his drawer for something.

 

Damien: I’m gonna’ cut to the chase son, there’s somebody I need kidnapped, and murdered when the time's right. I’m not gonna’ go in to the whys and reasons. It won’t be an easy job, but I’m paying a lot of money for it. I know its your speciality, and I knew I wouldn’t be sticking around Andreas much longer.

Scott: What makes you think I’m gonna’ do anything for you after what happened?

Damien: You’re skint and a wanted man, I can get you home.

 

He tossed a photograph of a tall, dark haired man across the table.

 

Damien: He’s at the ‘Hole you’re inn’ hotel up in the hills, think you’re man enough for the job?

 

Scott stared at the photo for a few seconds.

 

Scott: Is this who I think it is?

Damien: You know there’s a distinct possibility that I won’t be around for as long as you think. You know why I want this done, and you know I’m not like my brother. Maybe after this is done, I’ll just disappear… then Manchester’s all yours, I’ll pull all of the right strings and then I’m gone.

 

Scott stared for a few more seconds and then smiled.

 

Scott: I’m gonna’ need the biggest gun you’ve got.

 

Edited May 22, 2009 by The Unvirginiser

[Omnia sunt Communia]

 

One of the armed guards busted open with a shower of blood.

 

I love that line. The imagery is perfect. Your descriptive writing has really improved since the beginning of San Andreas Stories. You're already off to a explosive start with Solomon's City and I can see it reaching height after height; especially if you manage to keep up to the same level as SAS.

 

Angel is an interesting character. I'm going to assume that he plays an important part later on in the story? Otherwise I doubt you've give him such a prominent role. I'm eager to see what stories he will help us tell.

 

The only critcism I have is the dialogue of the British characters. You really need to capture their accents and make us believe they're from England. Look up regional dialects. I know for a fact I don't pronounce my Hs very well.

 

For example, instead of saying: "Hello, how are you Howard?" I tend to go: "'Ello, 'ow are you 'oward?"

[The Unvirginiser]

Don't worry, that will definatly be featured in the next few chapters. Thanks for replying.

[The Unvirginiser]

 

Chapter One

 

I think we need to take it back a bit, it wasn’t always like this; guns and explosions. I used to be a quiet lad who kept himself to himself. I lived with my Mum and my little sister in a small council house on what everybody referred to as ‘The Birdy Estate’, the only birds I’d ever seen on there were crows and diseased pigeons, a vulture wouldn’t have been out of place though. This place was a sh*t hole, but it’s all I knew. I finished school with an all right set of results, and the world was my oyster. But in that summer, between school and college… my uncle John moved in with us. He was the first man I ever looked up to. My Dad was… well, ‘somewhere else’.

 

Now my uncle John, as I understand it, was on the run from the police. So obviously he had to stay low, and convinced his sister to let him sleep on the couch downstairs. He was a mechanic by trade, but it wasn’t like he could go and open up his garage in the morning if he wanted to, was it? He had to do a few odd jobs to help out my sister; he helped out some of the lads with their cars from the local pub. He was making a few quid here and there, but I knew he had another income. He was doing something else, probably something illegal.

 

I remember on my sixteenth birthday, he got me a little motorbike. Wasn’t quite a modern day Sanchez but it was my little run-around and never let me down. How he’d afforded it I never knew, but he managed it and was determined to give me the best present somebody my age could ask for. John had no kids of his own, he was probably impotent or something. So he always called me son, which I didn’t mind, since I never had a dad to look up to. These were the good days, the days before I found myself sprinting across a baking hot desert, running from the law. You see, before the fame, before all the torture and the murders, there was just football…

 

 

 

15:00 – Saturday – 4th May -1976

 

 

Cut Scene

 

John, a tall, thin middle aged man lay below a white motorbike, tweaking a screw with a wrench.

 

John: That should just about do it son.

 

He pulled himself up from the ground and wiped his oily hands on his grubby, white vest. A young Scott sat on the bike; he shook his uncle’s heavily tattooed hand.

 

Scott: I don’t know what to say, it’s brilliant.

John: You don’t have to say anything mate, you know I’ll always sort you out.

 

John looked at his watch.

 

John: sh*t, is that the time? The match is starting soon.

 

He ran his hand through his messy black hair and scratched his goatee.

 

John: Tell you what, have a go on the bike, meet me in the 'Dusty Bucket' across town. You know the little white pub on Barren Road?

Scott: Yeah, I know the place.

John: Go and get a seat in there, I’ll have a wash and meet you for a pint, all right?

 

End of Cut Scene

 

You’re now in control of a sixteen year old Scott. Follow the on screen instructions and jump on your bike. It explains about movement controls, the bike controls and the mini-map. Follow the blue marker to go to the pub. The estate in the definition of a ‘f*ck hole’. Horrible council houses line the roads, with the occasional block of flats. Dotted about are boarded up off licences and greasy fish and chip shops.

When you reach the pub, park your bike outside and step in the blue marker.

You enter the crowded pub, full of football fans. Go up to the bar and order a drink.

 

- £1

 

Money is now explained with a set of on screen and instructions.

 

Cut Scene

 

Scott stands at the back of the pub, sipping his pint. The match begins and the crowd all gather around the mounted television on the wall. John strolls in to a happy greeting of smiles and waves.

 

Punter: All right John?

John: Yeah, fine mate, yourself?

Punter: Fine, fine – you got any more of that stuff?

John: Soon mate, soon.

 

John notices Scott watching.

 

John: Look, I’ll swing by yours later and we’ll talk about it then, yeah?

 

John stands with Scott and the screen fades to black.

 

Commentator: A smashing victory! They want to be proud of those goals!

 

The screen fades in to the cheery cloud, wearing their red football shirts. John and Scott smile at their team’s victory and down yet another pint.

 

The camera drastically moves to the window, where a large group of men have gathered, wearing blue football tops.

 

 

Punter: Ey up lads! Some sore losers outside!

 

A brick smashes through the window and knocks one of the fans off his chair.

 

Punter: C’mon boys!

 

Storm out of the pub with the rest of the men to meet the enemy gang outside on the road. The two groups stand about ten feet apart, hesitant as to who will make the first move. The largest man from the other gang steps forward…

 

Man: John Taylor! I’ve been f*ckin' waiting for you all season, c’mon then! Me and you ya’ c*nt!

Before he can finish saying '...c*nt', John lunges forward and jumps to a remarkable height. With the skill of a lifelong fighter, he lands a clean scissor kick right in the man’s jaw, sending him to the pavement, unconscious. Before they have time to react he drops another with a vicious uppercut. The two groups then storm forward and begin a fierce brawl.

 

End of Cut Scene

 

On screen instructions give extensive instructions for the newly improved fight controls. Similar to games such as UFC and fight night, total strength control is used to decide how hard you wish to strike or how much pressure to put on a grapple hold. Any weapon can be used that can be found lying around; this is all explained in the instructions.

 

Jump in the action and start throwing punches at other football hooligans. Attack anybody in a blue top and try out some of your newly learnt grapples and combinations. In the middle of the brawl, John grabs the large man that kicked off first and ferousicouly bites one of his ears, causing a heavy stream of blood to flood down from his head. The man screams in agony as John finishes him off by an elbow to the top of the head.

 

John: Scott, police will be here soon; we’re off!

 

Jump on the motorbike, John climbs on the back. Ride off, back towards your house.

 

Cut Scene

 

As you pull up, your Mum comes out of the house, carrying your three year old sister. She’s a worn down, middle aged woman, who’s obviously a victim of poverty as the rest of the estate.

 

Mum: What’ve you done?

John: Just busted my lip at the pub, that’s all. Slipped on the floor didn’t I Scott?

Mum: You’ve been fighting haven’t ya’! I told you John! I told you! He’ll end up just like his bloody Father, if you wanna’ stay here then-

Scott: Mum, he fell of a pint that I spilt.

John and Mum: Shut up Scott!

 

Scott walks back in to his house as the siblings bicker.

 

 

She was a pain in the arse, but she always wanted what was best for me and my sister; Emma. My Mum hated crime, probably because she saw enough of it on the streets everyday, and crime had burnt down the bakery she had a firm job at. After that brawl outside the Dusty Bucket, that was it for me. I was ready to be part of the firm; I wanted to be known as my uncle and be able to fight any man who stood in my way.

Edited May 21, 2009 by The Unvirginiser

[Tyla]

Top notch! The flashbacks paint a great picture of what it would have been like as a young Scott Tyson in the mid-70's. The Chippy, the Off-Licenses(would they be Happy Shoppers or Hippy Shoppers?), cheap pints and the game at 3 o'clock. The brawl was well descripted and as realistic as it gets, especially the brick through the window, and the confrontation by the Blues fan. Liked the addition of Scott's mother aswell, who proberly knows she isn't going to succeed in drawing her son away from the underworld, but will try her hardest to keep him on the straight and narrow.

[TomVDC]

Oke, I've read it and I loved it so far.

KUTGW.

 

grtz

Tom

[Oxidizer]

Oh, I hope Angel makes a return appearance. He's my favorite character out of the ones we've been introduced to so far.

 

I'm also glad that I caught this one from the beginning, as I started reading SAS halfway through and didn't know half the history between the characters and storylines. Needless to say, I'll be following this one more closely from here on out.

 

Quality work, Will.

[Pr0xy_fl00d3r]

Right, I'll just say that this is brilliant and I am looking forward to more! Keep it up Will

EDIT: Just read through chapter 2, sheer quality, you really capture the essence of a typical council estate. I'd like to see more northern slang can't beat it.

Edited May 21, 2009 by Pr0xy_fl00d3r

[El Zilcho]

I love it! Especially Johns character. With any luck, we'll see even more vintage flashback missions. Class.

[The Unvirginiser]

Well, the start was just the introduction, kind of a 'flash forward'... the real story starts now, in the 70's. The San Andreas events of the late 80's are miles away yet.

[VCRules86]

Excellent man, I'm very pleasently surprised that the new script is up as fast as it is. This is starting off excellent and is starting to bring back the memories of waiting for the next SAS installment. Keep it up Will, great start to this.

[The Unvirginiser]

 

Chapter Two

 

11:00 – Monday – 6th May

 

 

Cut Scene

 

Scott and his Mum sit around the kitchen table.

 

Mum: You know what; you’re just like your uncle! You’re nothing but sh*t and you’ll never amount to sh*t!

Scott: Just like you! You sit on your arse all day, everyday!

Mum: You know what you cheeky little sh*t! I work my arse off all day, every day. I wash and iron all your clothes, cook all your meals, buy all your food and I clean this sh*thole, never mind taking care of your sister! You’ve not even offered to-

Scott: Offered to what? Wipe her arse? You don’t put in any graft to pay for sh*t, all you do is mooch down to the job centre to sign on like the rest of the scum on this estate. I can’t even have a brew because there’s no milk!

Mum: Well, this isn’t the Taj Mahal! If you want a cup of tea so bad then get your arse down to the shop and buy some!

Scott: You know what? I will!

Mum: …

Scott: …

Mum: Well? What are you waiting for?

Scott: The money you’re gonna’ give me!

Mum: Ha! I can go without tea, you’re so confident that you don’t need me to take care of you then you can have a bit of f*cking responsibility.

Scott: Fine!

 

End of Cut Scene

 

You’re now outside the house; follow the marker on your radar to reach the shop. You walk down a few short roads and through a few alleys. Outside, a group of teenagers sit outside and stare at Scott. Walk inside the shop and purchase a glass bottle of milk.

 

- £1

 

As you walk out, the boys outside stand up.

 

Lead thug: All right mate? Where you get your hair cut? Canal Street?

 

The rest laugh.

 

Scott: Funny guy you aren’t ya’? Aren’t you the one with some fa**ot name like Wimble or something?

Wimble: Yeah, that is my name actually.

Scott: F*cking hell lad, I’d give your dirty, chlamydia Mam a slap if I were you for that.

 

Wimble steps forward and jabs Scott in the throat, sending him falling to his knees. He drops the milk bottle on the ground; it rolls in to the gutter.

 

Wimble: f*cking listen Tyson, I own this f*cking estate, alright? And I don’t f*cking like you fannying around my streets. From now on don’t bother walking about, because if I see ya’, I’m gonna’-

 

Without you controlling Scott, he punches Wimble in the stomach and makes him keel over in pain. You are now back in control, Wimble’s three mates run at you. Try to fight them off with the fighting skills you learnt, you manage to stay standing for a few seconds. After a short while, the blows to the head and the kicks to the ribs are too much and you drop to the ground. Wimble joins the three lads in kicking you on the floor; Scott tries to curl in to a ball to protect himself.

 

Wimble: Stand him up!

 

An instruction comes up explaining how to use weapons. Pick up the milk bottle as they try to drag you up and smack Wimble with it.

 

Cut Scene

 

Scott swings the bottle, Wimble just blocks it in time. For a second, the two stare face to face, until Wimble smiles and then head butts him with frightening force. Scott’s head snaps back and his nose smashes open with a thick splatter of blood. As he falls back, the three lads catch him and hold him upright again.

 

Wimble: Listen, I’m gonna’ teach you a f*cking lesson in manners.

 

Wimble slips on a pair of knuckle dusters and smashes Scott in the gut. The lads let go and allow him to slump to the floor.

 

Wimble: Why the f*ck should I let somebody like this c*nt even live on my estate?

 

He pulls out a switchblade from his coat.

 

Thug: Wimble, Wimble mate chill out. It’s not worth it lad, c’mon!

Wimble: Shut up! Once he’s been done then the rest will learn wont they?

 

Scott manages to stand up and uses their argument to make a break for it. Wimble and the rest sprint after him.

 

End of Cut Scene

 

A marker appears on the screen for your house, a set of on screen instructions explain how to run and climb. Vault over fences and sprint through the gardens to lose the gang and make it home.

 

Cut Scene

 

Two lads stand on your doorstep, chatting to your Mum.

 

Mum: Here he is now! What the f*ck happened to your face? And where’s the f*cking milk?

Scott: Mum, go inside and shut up.

Mum: Useless f*cking sh*t, always were and always will be…

 

She returns in to the house, muttering obscenities about you to herself. The two lads move forward.

 

Scott: Liam, Dave – How are ‘yas?

Liam: Fine, what the f*ck happened to your face?

 

Liam is a small, handsome pretty boy. While Dave is a big, mean looking grunt with a murderous look in his eye.

 

Scott: You know that big lad? Wimble, little bit older than us? Lives on Chester Street in them flats?

Liam: Oh yeah? The one who all the shops pay protection money to?

Scott: Yeah, him and his mates just jumped me outside Phil’s market.

Dave: You serious?

Scott: Look at my face, course I’m f*cking serious.

Liam: Well what are we gonna’ do about it?

Dave: I say we f*cking burn his house down for that!

Scott: He lives in the flats over there, top floor. Can’t burn the lot down can we?

 

John comes out of the house; his hands are thick in oil. Slowly, he grasps Scott’s chin and inspects his battered face.

 

John: Who’s done that to you son?

Scott: Just some prick-

John: Is it that Wimble lad? From the Chester Street flats?

Scott: Yeah…

John: He the same silly c*nt who comes in the bucket acting like he owns it? Demanding money off the landlord for ‘protection’.

Dave: That sounds like something he’d do.

John: You know you three are pathetic, if you all got your f*cking act together then either one of you would have him in a one on one. In my days there was nothing but hard bastards about, not little soft arses with groups of mates around them like that daft little sh*t. I thought better of you son.

Scott: Well what do you think I should do?

 

John walks Scott to the open garage beside the house. Inside, is an old car that John’s working on. Lay against the wall is an old cricket bat. He picks it up and hands it to Scott.

 

John: You really need me telling you what has to be done? If you three put your heads together, you could run this estate. All the pot dealers, all the shops would pay some money to you to trade on your patch. You can run all the f*cking sh*t pubs out of business and hassle all the f*ckers that ruin this estate. It’s about eliminating the competition. You can make a wad of money every day, just by smashing up the people who get out of line.

 

He digs out a hammer and hands it to Dave, then passes his wrench on to Liam.

 

John: You pay that c*nt a visit tonight, and by Friday you’ll have more cash than you know what to do with.

 

22:00

 

 

The three lads come out of Scott’s house, carrying their weapons. A blue marker comes up on the radar; follow it to Wimble’s flat.

 

Liam: He lives alone or what?

Scott: Yeah, shifting drugs paid for everything.

Dave: You know your uncle’s in to drugs don’t ya’ Scott?

Scott: F*ck you, what makes you think that.

Dave: You ever heard of this new ‘super drug’ that’s come out?

Scott: Can it cure the common cold??

Dave: Not that type of drug dickhead, it’s what all the ravers down in Majestic City take. Apparently, a few dealers up here have got hold of it to shift, and your John is one of them.

Scott: You come out with some sh*te you Dave, where you hear that?

Dave: I didn’t hear anything, your John fixed our Luke’s car and he slipped in a sample. That explains why he sent it off to be repaired when there was nowt wrong with it, and why your uncle’s wedged.

Liam: What is it then?

Dave: You having this? A psychedelic, hallucinogenic drug. Apparently, you chew a little piece of paper, which is soaked in it. And then you completely trip out and think you’re invincible and sh*t.

Scott: The bollocks that comes out of your mouth!

Dave: It’s true, read a f*cking newspaper! Apparently it isn’t cheap. Your Uncle couldn’t afford your bike fixing squeaky motors, that’s for sure.

Scott: Whatever man.

 

You reach the flats. Go inside and enter the elevator.

 

Liam: You two sure we want to do this?

 

There’s an awkward silence in the elevator.

 

Scott: I’m not being bullied by a twat with a name like Wimble, this needs to be done.

 

Cut Scene

 

The three reach a door; they look anxiously at each other until Dave knocks on. After a few seconds, Wimble answers. His usual, cocky look upon his ugly face quickly melts away at the site of Scott’s cricket bat.

 

End of Cut Scene

 

Smash Wimble in the face with the bat, sending him falling backwards and through a small coffee table. The three of you surround him and beat him senseless with the weapons. He screams in pain and rolls around on the floor, trying desperately to protect himself. Liam and Dave circle the room, smashing vases, fish tanks and televisions. Keep smacking Wimble with the bat and kicking him.

 

 

Cut Scene

 

Wimble lies in a pool of blood on the floor, panting for breath.

 

Scott: Listen here you f*cking little wanker, I’m in charge of this f*cking estate now! You try and f*cking bully anybody else on here and I’ll rip your f*cking throat out! You understand me?!

 

Scott kicks him hard in the ribs.

 

Scott: All those f*cking dealers and shop keepers that pay you are gonna’ start paying up to me now, you understand? If you’ve got something to say about it then you know where I f*cking live, all right?

 

Scott nods to his two friends, and they begin to leave.

 

That could have been it; I could have left him a bloody mess and took over the estate. Simple, all he had to do was stay on his arse, and then he could enjoy a nice, quiet life.

 

Wimble: Oi, Tyson!

 

Scott reluctantly turns around.

 

Wimble: I don’t usually go for younger fanny, but once I’m back on my feet… I think I’ll make an exception for your sister.

 

Something inside me blew, a screw came lose that would never tighten again. The quiet boy that used to do so well in school was murdered, replaced by the terrible villain that Manchester knows today.

 

Scott lifts Wimble off the ground and kneecaps him with the cricket bat.

 

Scott: You f*cking dirty little c*nt! What you saying? Gonna’ rape my f*cking sister are you?

 

Scott kicks him in the chest, sending him stumbling back through his patio door. The glass shatters and he falls on to the edge of the balcony, hundreds of feet above the Salford city lights. The sky scrapers of Manchester light up the background. Scott moves forward and grasps Wimble by the throat, leaning him over the balcony.

 

Liam: Don’t Scott!

Dave: Don’t!

 

The frantic shouts of his friends are drowned, replaced with an eerie silence as the camera focuses on Wimble’s smug face.

 

Wimble: Go on… do it, you don’t have the balls.

 

In slow motion, Scott pushes Wimble over the edge. The camera follows him down on his twenty story fall to the ground. Scott speaks as he tumbles and twists in the air.

 

Sixteen years old, and I’d murdered someone. Terrible isn’t it? That was it for me; I couldn’t go back to birthdays and BBQ’s. I’d started a life, a life where I can profit from planting terror in people’s hearts, a life where I could become the most feared man in the city. People would have to travel twenty miles to not know my name, and fifteen miles not to fear it. This was it, I was destined for crime. As soon as Wimble splattered on to the courtyard below, my life turned upside down.

 

The screen fades to black, inches from Wimble hitting the pavement.

Edited May 22, 2009 by The Unvirginiser

[radicell]

Wimble slips on a pair of knuckle dusters and smashes Billy in the gut. The lads let go and allow him to slump to the floor.

Who the hell's Billy?

 

Nice start to this, I like the flash-forward introduction, quite an original move. The second mission seemed a bit too advanced though, for only the second mission of the game. I think it should have ended after Scott sprinted back into his house.

[Greenage380]

Thank God you're writing another story Uv. Hope this one will be as epic as the last one. The only problem I have with this is you sometimes write Billy instead of the character which is in the scene.

[El Zilcho]

That last chapter was fantastic! I seriously loved it all, the dialogue especially. I know many people who talk just like that, so it seems more familiar to me. And if this is the start, I can't wait for how this is going to develop! Top notch.

[Lochie_old]

Hot damn, Scott doesn't take any sh*t.

 

I'm glad you've switched to present tense by the wy,

[Don Garcia aka NjNakedSnake]

Damn, you really are a San Andreas fanatic. Haha.

 

I said that cuz SA was mentioned in the introduction

Edited May 23, 2009 by Don Garcia aka NjNakedSnake

[The Unvirginiser]

 

Chapter Three

 

The murder of Robert ‘Wimble’ Wallace didn’t go down too well with a few people on the estate. I knew he had mates who supported his little reign of terror, but what did I care? I had big Dave, little Liam, and plenty of other mates. There was black Paul, who lived just behind my Mum’s, fat Chris, who could always pack a punch. Leon, who I’d known since my first day of school, who was destined to become a champion kick boxer someday. Who else? Let’s see… ten men Tate, we called him that because of how hard he thought he was – Not ten second Tate as some of the ladies called him. We weren’t exactly the A-team but we were all ready for whatever comeback we’d get for Wimble.

 

 

 

Wednesday – 8th May

 

8:00

 

 

Cut Scene

 

Scott sits at his kitchen table, with his Mum, who’s in her dressing gown and smoking a cigarette. Emma, the two year old baby, sits on a highchair eating toast, with butter and crumbs around her mouth. The camera zooms out to reveal two men in suits. It then pans around to reveal their ‘Criminal Investigation Department’ badges.

 

Detective: So, ten ‘o’ clock on Monday night, where were you?

Scott: You’ve already asked me this.

Detective: Please, just answer the question.

Scott: I was sat in my room, listening to music. I finished a crossword, and then went to sleep.

Detective: At…?

Scott: Around half past.

Detective: And who gave you that little swollen nose there?

Scott: Some druggies near Phil’s market, the shop round the corner.

Detective: Do you know a Robert Wallace?

Scott: I’ve heard of him, you’ve asked me all of this already-

Mum: Listen ‘ere you two! My lad’s a good lad! He’s not a f*ckin’ murderer, alrite? He doesn’t even know the lad properly; it’s the rest of the bastards on this estate that you should be out chasing! F*ckin’ harassing innocent people, no wonder everybody hates the police.

Policeman: Watch your mouth Mrs. Tyson, we’re officers of the law-

Mum: No! You watch your mouth! If you’ve got nothing else to say then you can both get out of my house! Go on, sling your hooks. If you think he threw some lad off the flats then take him to the station and interrogate him there.

 

The detectives stand up, look at each other, then decide to leave.

 

Detective: How about you just let us know if you’re gonna’ leave town lad?

Mum: I said get out! Coming in here with your sh*t, get out!

 

On their way out, John comes through the front door. The two officers stop dead in their tracks, and stare at him. John takes a step back is hesitance, and locks eyes with one. After a few awkward seconds, he smiles and then makes his way past the police. The detectives look at each other and then go out the front door.

 

 

9:30

 

 

John frantically fumbles around the garage, throwing stuff in to a large gym bag; tools, boxes and packages. Scott wanders in and watches his uncle.

 

Scott: What’s happening?

John: I’m leaving mate, I’m sorry son but I’ve gotta’ go.

Scott: No, wait, what’s the matter?

John: I can’t explain mate, I’ve just got a bad feeling and I’ve gotta’ go!

Scott: No you haven’t gotta’ go, you haven’t gotta’ go anywhere.

John: I have Scott, sorry mate but I have.

Scott: Where are you going?

John: I dunno’ mate, anywhere!

 

Scott’s voice suddenly goes very shaky, and his eyes shimmer with tears of sadness. John carries on clearing his stuff.

 

Scott: You f*ckin’ prick, you know I need you here, you know I haven’t got a dad.

John: Scott, I’m sorry mate! I’m really sorry, but those police are on top, I’ve gotta’ go. I can’t stay.

Scott: Fine then! Go, get out! My f*cking Mum was right about you, take off then!

John: Sorry Scott-

 

Scott grabs John and pins him against the wall. He whispers to him in a fierce and threatening voice…

 

Scott: You talked me in to doing Wimble over-

John: I never said anything about killing him did I?

Scott: Well he’s dead now, I’ve probably got half this estate after me and if me and the lads plan to do anything then I need you! You can’t lead me halfway and then f*ck off somewhere!

John: Son, you don’t understand... I’m a wanted man.

Scott: You made them jump when you came home, that’s all. They don’t know anything! They couldn’t find their arses if they were sat on both hands! I need you here! You’re paranoid and you’ve sh*t your pants over nothing.

 

John thinks hard, shaking his head.

 

Scott: I need you here with me; you’re the only thing I’ve got to a dad. Don’t do anything stupid.

 

John keeps staring at Scott’s sad eyes… then, he reluctantly nods in agreement and begins emptying the bag.

Edited May 25, 2009 by The Unvirginiser

[Chunk]

Like I said on MSN, I'm really liking the narrations at the start of each chapter. Everything else about it, great job. I dunno why, but I'm actually liking this more than SAS. Must connect with it more with it being British and such.

 

Nice work so far mate.

[nerner]

Hope I can follow this all of the way through like I did with SAS, good start, probably better than the SAS start. And if you keep this up, then congrats on winning another award.

[The Unvirginiser]

I apologise for the lack of updates, it's been a hectic week. Don't lose hope just yet.

[nerner]

Don't worry, I haven't, and won't, hope to see a new chapter soon though.

[The Unvirginiser]

 

Chapter Four

 

The twenty or so balconies in the ‘Tommy Taylor’ flats flew past like Formula One race cars. Wimble was violently tumbling as he fell, spinning more wildly out of control with each passing second . My gut wanted to claw itself out of my body. Everything from below my waist became unresponsive and shaky. All I could do was watch in horror as the shadow on the ground grew larger, Wimble got closer to the grey, concrete flagging of Wellington Crescent.

 

His large, brutish body landed head first. A spiralling galaxy of grey brains, white bone and red, red blood decorated the Mother and her pram on a nearby bench. After a few silent seconds of terror, she hysterically screamed as the pool of blood quickly soaked her shoes, covering her brand new pink toenails.

 

Wimble stood up, his face turned in to Uncle John’s. Tears rolled down from his eyes and in to his brown moustache. Slowly he held out his arms and shown that they were bound in a set of thick, steel handcuffs.

 

“Told you this would happen, son. You’re next, you’ll be locked inside when they find out what happened to that poor boy.” Two police men climbed out of the blood soaked pram and led him away in to the darkness. The Mother was now a large CID agent with a long, brown coat on.

 

“You killed him didn’t ya’ sonny? Fancy doing that to your Mum and little sister eh? Who’s gonna’ stop all of his mates from taking it out on them now?” He slapped the cuffs on my wrist and quickly changed in to an elderly judge.

 

“Sixteen, murder?!” The judge screamed, he grew taller and taller as he waved his hammer.

“Her Majesty’s Prison has nowhere for the likes of YOU!” The judge’s head was now breaking the dark, grey clouds that had formed. Lightning bolts rained down on the estate as he slammed down his hammer.

“Death! I sentence you to death! Take him to the gallows!” A noose locked around my neck, the crowd watched and shouted for justice. The masked executioner looked at me, face to face. In his lifeless eyes I could see him, I could see the man that I always dream about. Those first blurry memories from being a child were there, clear as day. Here he was, my Father. He was there at my third birthday, he was there with the three candles and the football cake. He was there, now he was here. He pulled the handle and the floor below me gave way…

 

I returned to my bedroom with a crash, I could have sworn that I was floating before I awoke. The haunting images still flashed in my head. Wimble was dead, somewhere his family were grieving, somewhere his friends were going to get even, and somewhere… somewhere was my Father.

 

[Cashy]

Just stumbled across this piece, but I would really like to see more. I can really relate to the whole football hooliganism (reminds me of Green Street ) and the dream... nice touch!

 

Keep it up, man.

[El Zilcho]

Bloody hell Will, I've always liked this but the psychological angle in his dream (which somewhat reminds me of Jack Palmer) has brought in some fresh air. I'm glad to see this back, please do post some more chapters if you have any. Enjoyed this from day one, and it's getting better and better.

[Oxidizer]

Glad to see this back up and running and satisfied by what's been delivered so far; that was trippy and bloody.

 

I'm taking it there'll be more to come soon?

[The Unvirginiser]

 

Chapter Five

 

I was a murderer. Goodbye college, goodbye family life, goodbye Christmas, Birthdays and BBQs. My life would never be the same again, I was a criminal. As I drinking a cup of strong, black coffee, the image of Wimble’s corpse flashed in my mind over and over again like a neon pink sign.

 

XXX - Wimble’s Dead - Ruined Your Life - XXX - Free Sambuca Shot - Going To Hell - XXX

 

There was no escaping what I’d done. The entire estate knew, and karma was waiting for me, like a vulture circling overhead in the morning sun.

 

 

John: There’s two things you can do now.

Scott: Like?

John: Well, you can try to run and hide from what you did. But fate, or the police, will eventually catch up on you.

Scott: What’s the second thing?

John: You can use this as a foundation.

Scott: What do you mean?

John: Son, you could run this estate single handed, they’d all pay you protection money. You could manage the drugs that come through here, shake up the dealers to cut you a slice. With my help you could work your way up in the football firm. Once you’re a face, once you’re known, you can always make money.

 

I picked this moment to ask…

 

Scott: Why are the police after you?

 

The question took him by surprise, he thought for a second…

 

 

John: Well-

Scott: Is it because you’re dealing Solomon?

 

John went silent.

 

Scott: Well?

John: Who told you that?

Scott: I’m not thick.

John: Well maybe I am, but no… that’s not what they want me for.

Scott: What then?

John: Something else…

 

 

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

 

The Phoenix was a greasy, horrible little chip shop that sat on the corner of two of the worse streets of the estate. It’s green lights barely pierced the thick, 2 AM darkness. The owners were bought out years ago by a family of Chinese immigrants. This was a soft target for me, I figured they’d be pushovers.

 

Walk in to the Chippy and order some food.

 

The owner is a small, old Chinese man with white hair.

 

Man: Hello…

Scott: Hi, can I have BBQ ribs and a portion of chips please?

Man: Yes, no problem, five pound twenty please.

 

- £5.20

 

The man assembles your order.

 

Man: Anything else?

Scott: Yes, I heard you were paying £150 a month to Robert Wallace?

Man: Wimble… Wimble dead, I pay no more!

Scott: Well, you start paying me now.

Man: I PAY NOBODY!

 

Throw your food at him, he’s covered in BBQ sauce and chips. Quickly leap over the counter to threaten him.

 

Scott: You will f*cking pay me-

 

As you jump over the counter he pulls out a huge machete from a rack of utensils on the wall. Quickly dodge out of the way as he tries to slice you down the middle of your chest. Leap back over the counter and make a run for the door, he sprints around the counter and chases you through the street, waving the machete in the air and screaming Chinese obscenities.

 

It occurred to me that moment, the moment I was running for my life from a Chinese man half my size, I was too soft. Nobody would take me seriously… so I killed some kid, so what? There were people running this estate who could have me killed with one phone call, I didn’t stand a chance. Thoughts and feelings raced through my head, embarrassment, regret, anger, dread… and then I saw her.

 

She was sat on one of those green electricity boxes in an alley, smoking a cigarette. Just another scummy tart off the estate, but there was something about her. She had high heels on, long, sexy legs which led up to a short, red skirt. Above that was a small, low cut top which put her fairly large breasts on show. She had large, sparkling eyes and one of the most un-innocent faces I’d ever seen.

 

Finally I snapped out of it and realised what had to be done. When you’re out to make a name for yourself, you want to hit people so hard that they’re never getting back up.

 

Spin around and land a roundhouse kick in to the ribs of the Chinese man. As he stumbles in mid-sprint, twist his arm and take the machete from him. In an awkward thrust you cut three of the man’s fingers off. He drops to the floor, screaming as blood sprays all over the pavement. Hold the machete to his head with enough force that it starts to bleed.

 

Scott: I tried to do this the nice way, now we’re gonna’ do it the hard way. You either pay up…

Chinese: I’ll pay!

Scott:… or I’ll cut your f*cking head off. Now on your way.

 

The man sprints back to the chippy, screaming. The girl looks amused at the horrific attack, you quickly hide the machete and run up the alley. She grabs you as you pass her.

 

Girl: Where do you think you’re going?

Scott: I.. uh…

Girl: Follow me…

 

She hops off the box and walks up the guinnel, you slowly follow her, watching her arse as she marches ahead of you, occasionally turning around and beckoning you to follow with her finger. She walks in to one of the parks and enters the playground. It’s dark and desolate, she silently makes her way to the slide and lies down on it.

 

Girl: I’m Vicky by the way… so you’re big bad Scott?

Scott: I.. yeah… I’m Scott.

 

She smiles

 

Vicky: I’ve heard all about you, throwing that poor boy off a block of flats, that’s a bit naughty isn’t it? What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?

 

She watched you for a moment, amused, then beckons you forward with her finger again. You take a few steps forward and then get on your knees. She whispers in to your ear…

 

Vicky: If I can make you come with one finger, imagine what I can do with everything else…

 

Finally, she raises her legs high in the air and pulls upwards on her pink G-string until it’s around her heels.

 

Vicky: You going to just stand there or give me a hand?

 

Nervously, lean in and untangle it from around her heels, she then sits up and unzips your pants.

 

The screen fades to black

 

The sounds of sex gradually grow louder and louder. Vicky lets out gentle moans as her breathing becomes faster and faster. As the screen fades back in, the sounds climax, and you slow to a stop. The screen is now in first person, looking in to Vicky’s eyes. She kisses you and runs her finger down your chest.

 

Vicky: I’m glad I got to meet you…

 

She lets out a little giggle. Suddenly, her mischievous face turns to worry, as a large shadow covers it. The screen flashes red as you receive a blow to the back of your head. The camera switches back to normal view as you are dragged off Vicky, with your pants still around your ankles. The figure slams you to the ground, then stamps squarely on your testicles, causing you to curl up in pain.

 

Vicky: Mack, stop it!

Mack: Shut up! Well, look who it is… big bad Scott Tyson. You think because you killed one c*nt you can f*ck anybody’s bird you want?

Vicky: Leave him Mack! We finished weeks ago!

Mack: Shut it you f*cking slag!

 

Mack is very tall, he has wide, stocky shoulders and looks a few years older than you. He pulls out a large knife from his boots.

 

Mack: Think you run Birdy do you? Just because you’re Uncle’s selling drugs, just because you snapped and killed some kid?

 

He gets on his knees and readies himself to thrust the blade in to your chest. A black high heeled shoe shoots up from between his legs, deeply implanting in to his groin. Take this opportunity to jump up and wrestle Mack to the floor. Butt him and land punches on his face, his nose breaks and his left eye closes up. The battered face looks up at you, he smiles and shows a set of perfectly white teeth. They are unusually large and sharp, like a shark’s. He pulls your hand to his face and manages to bite the end of your index finger. As the teeth sink in, a trail of blood leaks down your wrist and you let out a scream.

 

Mack grabs you by the throat and pulls you down to the ground as he thrusts his head up and catches you on the tip of your nose. He then punches you in the Adam’s apple and throws you off him. Vicky smacks Mack with her handbag, but he retaliates by slashing one it’s handles with his knife and punching her in the jaw. She drops to the ground and the contents of her bag spill. Two bottles of vodka roll along the asphalt floor.

 

You manage to get up and drive him in to a fireman’s pole on the climbing frame, it makes a loud bang as his head collides with it. Mack stumbles back, then grabs two monks bars and swings on them - landing a two footed kick in your chest. You withdraw your machete as he pulls out his knife. The two of you circle each other, with your eyes locked. Mack is still slightly dizzy from hitting the pole, slash at him with the machete, he dodges it and lunges for your gut with the knife. Grab his wrists and try to hold back the attack, the knife inches closer and closer to your belly as you struggle.

 

In a daring manoeuvre, you let go off his wrists and slice at his head with the machete. Mack tries to move out of the way but has part of his ear sliced off. Blood gushes down his face as he drops to one knee.

As you move in for the kill he picks up one of the bottles of vodka and viciously smashes you on the side of the head with it. The screen flashes red as you fall to the ground, holding your head. Blood is now everywhere, flooding down your face and all over your shirt.

 

Scott: f*ck.. Ahh! f*ck! f*ck!

 

Mack is laughing, he’s lay on his back, holding where the top of his ear used to be - hysterically laughing.

 

Mack: All this over a f*cking woman! Hahahahaaa

 

Your head throbs and the adrenaline still rushes through your body. The pain is excruciating, the pieces of glass stuck in your skull throb and ache, but somehow… you find the humour in Mack’s words.

 

Mack: We were gonna’ f*cking kill each other! Hahaaa

 

He holds out a bloody hand.

 

Mack: The name’s Mack.

 

He gives you a pearly white, shark-like smile as you shake.

 

Mack: I think there’s another bottle of vodka there if you’re interested, you know… on the way to the hospital. Help the slag to her feet, maybe they can do something for her swollen jaw… I’ll be the one with my pants down if her dad finds out.