Chronicles of James Diesel

[Slingaa]

Hey all, this is my first story. Originally, these stories were meant for BUYG. But I thought I'd share them with the Writers Discussion. It's about a 16 year old, James Diesel, who's family had been in the Sindacco Family for generations. But he wants to lead a normally life, instead of a one filled with violence. I'm 13, so cut me a little slack.

 

 

Chapter I, Retribution

31st December, 1999

 

It was a cold December night in Las Venturas. James Diesel walked through the strip quickly, the street lights guiding him. Cold was biting his face like an angry shark, while his thick scarf shielded his neck. He snatched the package from his long black coat and examined it. The label read: ‘Happy New Year’. His Uncle Vinnie had instructed him to place it in the Four Dragons Casino before ten o’clock. Jimmy didn’t know what was in the package, or who it was personally for. Jimmy gazed across the street. He saw a gang of women who appeared to be drunk screaming and shouting about the New Year. Jimmy didn’t care much for celebrations. Not since his father died. He was now approaching the casino. Jimmy checked his watch, five minutes to ten. He quickened his pace. Jimmy stood outside of the Four Dragons, the bright lights of red and blue illuminated the entrance. He took a deep breath and walked through the huge glass double doors.

 

Suddenly, a security guard appeared and stopped Jimmy in his tracks.

“Sorry, no kids allowed,” said the guard sharply.

“Oh, I have a package for the owner,” replied Jimmy nervously.

“Well in that case, come straight on in. But don’t try to gamble, I’ll be watching you.” Jimmy nodded in acknowledgement. Unsurprisingly, only a couple of people were gambling, seeing as the countdown to the new millennium was in an hour or so. He rushed to the exchange desk. Bright neon lights were set up around the casino; it had certainly changed since the last time Jimmy saw it. But more impressively a large black dragon, covered in detail perched on the wall by the doors. It was magnificent. Jimmy placed the package on the exchange desk and walked briskly outside. As he was walking back, a catastrophic explosion took place. It was the casino. Flaming debris flew in all directions. Car alarms sounded, people screamed and another explosion happened. And another. A look of horror swept across Jimmy’s face. Did the package cause the casino to explode?

 

Jimmy heard sirens. He had to go. He sprinted back to the High Roller casino, deep in thought. Was the package Uncle Vinnie gave him a bomb? Jimmy came to a stop. If the package was a bomb, he had just killed at least a dozen people. He, a young promising boy of 16, had just killed a dozen or more people, AND destroyed a casino. There were so many emotions running through his body now. Anger, nervousness, fear. No, he had to get back to Uncle Vinnie; he would explain everything. Jimmy glanced around his shoulder; the fire brigade had arrived. And so had the police. Minutes later Jimmy arrived at the High Roller. He jogged upstairs and found Uncle Vinnie and some other men in suits talking and smoking.

 

“Ahh, Jimmy D; how’d it go?” greeted Uncle Vinnie, offering him a glass of Coca Cola.

“That was a bomb!” exclaimed Jimmy, “you asshole!”

“Now, now James, you did well!” said one of the other men in the apartment calmly.

“Who the f*ck are you?” asked Jimmy, his anger rising. They chuckled.

“Well well, aren’t you a feisty one? I’m Don Sindacco, you’re uncle’s boss,” replied the man.

“Ha, and you’re boss now too!” Uncle Vinnie said cheerfully.

“Oh no, I don’t want to be in the family. I don’t want to kill innocent people, or make their lives miserable!”

“It’s not all violence James, you-“ But Don Sindacco was interrupted by a gang of men who had just burst through the door. Jimmy assumed they were Triads and had gotten word of what had just happened.

“Happy New Year, motherf*ckers!” shouted the lead Triad, holding an AK-47 to the Sindaccos.

 

Barrages of bullets filled the room. Jimmy dived for some cover behind an overturned table. He was soon joined by Don Sindacco.

“Take this, kid,” he told Jimmy, holding out a Colt .45. Jimmy took it and aimed at one of the Triads. His hand was trembling like mad, he couldn’t do it. But then, the Triad that Jimmy was aiming at shot at Uncle Vinnie. Blood spurted from his torso. “UNCLE VINNIE!” cried Jimmy. He pulled the trigger on his pistol three times. All of the bullets hit him in the head, and it flew off. The headless body slumped to the floor. Jimmy ran out to Uncle Vinnie’s body. The Sindaccos finished off the Triads and Don Sindacco ran to Jimmy. He erupted in a flood of tears. “They’ll pay for that!” exclaimed Jimmy, “I’ll make them pay! I’ll kill every last one of those filthy chinks!” He fired into the air in anger, tears running down his cheek. Jimmy collapsed onto Uncle Vinnie’s corpse and cried. “They’ll die…” muttered Jimmy. A couple of Sindaccos wearing hats took them off and held them, as to pay tribute. Jimmy wiped away his tears, cleared his throat and said: “I didn’t want this! Not any of it! Now the last member of my family is dead!”

“Join us, Jimmy we’ll avenge your uncle’s death. We’ll wipe out those dirty Triads…” replied Don Sindacco. Jimmy suddenly remembered back to his childhood.

 

”Marco, no!” screamed Jimmy’s mother, “he didn’t mean it!”

“Nobody speaks to the Don like that, Julie! Did you see how angry he was?!” replied Jimmy’s father, shouting her down.

“He’s only eight! Please don’t!” cried Julie, tears running down her face,

“Don’t try and defend him!” he shouted, brandishing his belt.

Jimmy was cowering in the corner, crying.

“Dad, don’t! Please!”

“Shut up!” Marco raised his arm to strike Jimmy, but Julie pounced on him. “Don’t! I’ll kill you!” Marco whipped out his pistol and fired at Julie. Her head rolled off her body, dead.

“MOM!” screamed Jimmy, now crying more than ever.

 

“I’ll do it,” replied Jimmy softly.

“Good man,” said Don Sindacco, patting him on the back. A smile etched on his face, “a toast! To Vinnie.” He took his glass and raised it in the air. So the other men. Twenty or so glasses of scotch bustled together, and one glass of coke.

“To Vinnie,” echoed the men, before necking down their glasses.

[VercettiTheNiter]

This is pretty good and has potential. I'm liking it and seems like a nice start. I hope there's more!

[Slingaa]

This is pretty good and has potential. I'm liking it and seems like a nice start. I hope there's more!

Thanks man! I'll get started on another story tomorrow.