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BUYG: Vice Edition


Build Up Your Vice Gang

Recommended Posts

Build Up Your Vice Gang

 

user posted image

 

 

Welcome to Build Up Your Gang: Vice Edition, the famous game created solely for the gangs and city of vice. The game is simple, pick a gang and write stories about them, you get graded and paid for each story, the money can be used to buy guns, vehicles, locations, rackets and businesses, drugs and new gang locations. All of these can be used to make your stories more interesting, more interesting stories means more money. Do you have what it takes to build your gang to rule over Vice?

 

Have fun and enjoy the game

Ziggy455 and the BUYG Staff

 

 

As me, Ziggy455-a lonesome,

Grand Theft Auto obsessed loser,

you can expect this topic to be updated

at least once a day. However these kind hearted

fans also contribute to the game, the BUYG staff consists of:

Secronom President (aka Landstalker)

mrpain

Ziggy455

*More positions are available with trust and initiation.

 

Rules1. Read all rules carefully before enlisting into a gang.2.Proofread your work, all stories must be typed up on microsoft word or another equivalent writing prgram which can pick up small mistakes.3.Don't post half finished stories or stories with half a plot, make sure it has a beginning, middle and end.4.Flaming, you flame anyone, you're character and stories go up in flames with you, permanent banning from the game aswell.Also, no Not-BUYG related talk, you can discuss ideas, threads and plans for future BUYG stories.5.No double posting, if you have something else to say, re-edit your post.Guidelines1.Each gang starts out with 1,000 dollars, a few weapons and a minimum of one vehicle. Some vehicles are listed in red and may only be used after the tenth story posted for that gang.2. You may not use any weapons, vehicles or other gang trades which you have not purchased, if you want to sell anything your gang owns you will recieve half the price you purchased it for.3. Any BUYG staff (Upon confirmation from Ziggy455) may choose to randomly confiscate items, weapons, vehicles and rackets and businesses, take note that your gang will only recieve confiscations if you have begun buying drugs. Confiscations will be dealth every Sunday, along with asset cashback distribution.4. The BUYG staff will PM you if you have been inactive for a significant amount of time asking for you to post in the topic within the week, if you do not, then you will be wiped from the tables.If you decide that you want to switch gangs, then your story count so far is bracketed. Each new story you write is added to the bracketed number, as well as starting afresh with an unbracketed number. The bracketed number is used for multiple of five bonuses. The unbracketed number is used for other rewards, such as weapons and vehicles, as well as unlocking the bonus vehicles for your gang..If you wish to expand, then you must buy property off of other gangs. You may only purchase property if it’s unoccupied. If the gang has an active member writing, only under a different property, then you must have their consent. If you’re buying a property which is in a city where your gang is already established, then it’ll cost $300. If you wish to expand to another city, it’ll cost $600.

 

 

 

Submission rules
In order to stop inactivity killing this off, things are going to change.
1. You MAY NOT post 'I will post up a story later. In order to join you must post a beginning story (Minimum 500 words) of how your character got into the gang it did. Depending on how well it is reviewed, based on grammar, punctuation and the effort the moderators find from it, then you can be submitted to the faction you chose.
2. The game will be set up into rounds, a maximum of three stories (500 Minimum) can be posted by one character by the end of the round. For example, the first round may begin on Octber 25th and will end on October 31st. All dates and times of the rounds will be handled and set out by a moderator
3.If you have not posted at least one (500 words minimum) story by the end of a round, your character shall be 'killed off' and you will have to start again. No bitching, no 'Aww I was off!' if you are unable to write up a story, then PM a moderator and they can put your player's status as 'In Hiding'.
4. If a story is deemed 'Rushed' or 'Plagarised' in any way, a moderator may choose to 'Void' it, asking the player for a better written piece.
5. I know it seems like we're a little dictating now, but how many of these games have gone down the pan because people say they'll 'get around to it?' If you can not commit, you can not play. Effectively if you choose to leave the game more than three times, you will be banned from joining again.
6. For every story I've seen, there are people making their own logos or pictures for the headlines of their stories. I ask that you do not do this as I will be creating logos for each faction so they can be placed above the stories themselves so as me and other moderators can actually distinguish what/who's story we're reading.

 

 

Round in Progress.

Opening date is 20/10/11

Closing date is 31/10/11

 

 

Story Count Bonuses
Story Count Prize(s)
Multiple of five for every fifth story you post, you recieve $100.
10th Story Free weapon or drugs under $200
15th Story Free Weapon under $400
20th Story Vehicle of your choice under $300.
20th Story for your gang Any Car free
50th story Free Racket or Business under $2,000.

 

 

user posted image

 

 

Vercetti Gang
Location Property Gang Member Story Count
Starfish Island
Diaz's Mansion
--
0
Vice Beach
Pole Position Club
--
0
Mainland
The Docks
--
0
Weapons
Colt 45.,MP5
Vehicles
Infernus
Money
$1,000
Rackets and Businesses
--
Assets
--
Drugs
--

 

 

 

Cubans

 

LocationPropertyGang MemberStory Count
Little Havana
Cafe Robina
--
0
Little Havana
Havana Laundromat
--
0
Little Havana
Havana Streetwear
--
0
Weapons
Colt 45.,Tec-9
Vehicles
Cuban Hermes, Taxi
Money
$1,000
Rackets and Businesses
--
Assets
--
Drugs
--

 

 

Haitans

 

LocationPropertyGang MemberStory Count
Little Haiti
Auntie Poulet's
--
0
Little Haiti
Kaufman Cabs
--
0
Little Haiti
Haitian Drug Factory
--
0
Weapons
Colt 45.,Tec-9
Vehicles
Voodoo, Sanchez
Money
$1,000
Rackets and Businesses
--
Assets
--
Drugs
--

 

 

Sharks

 

LocationPropertyGang MemberStory Count
Vice Beach
Vice Point Mall
--
0
Downtown
Downtown Ammu-Nation
--
0
Prawn Island
Abandoned Villa
--
0
Weapons
Colt 45, MP5
Vehicles
Gang Burrito
Money
$1,000
Rackets and Businesses
--
Assets
--
Drugs
--

 

 

The Bikers

 

LocationPropertyGang MemberStory Count
Downtown
The greasy Chopper
--
0
Downtown
Moist Palms Hotel
--
0
Downtown
Skumole Shack
--
0
Weapons
Uzi, Stubby Shotgun
Vehicles
Angel, Freeway
Money
$1,000
Rackets and Businesses
--
Assets
--
Drugs
--

 

 

P.I.G.S

 

LocationPropertyGang MemberStory Count
Vice Point
North Point Mall
--
0
Industrial Area
Escobar International Airport
--
0
Vice Beach
Leaf Links Golf Club
--
0
Weapons
Nightstick, 9mm, Micro SMG
Vehicles
Baggage Handler
Money
$1,000
Rackets and Businesses
--
Assets
--
Drugs
--

 

 

user posted image

 

 

Weapons Cost
Brass Knuckles $5
Screwdriver $6
Knife $7
Meat Cleaver $7
Hammer $8
Axe $10
Baseball Bat $10
Pool Stick $10
Golf Club $12
Night Stick $15
Machete $15
Katana $30
Chainsaw $75
Handguns Cost
Colt 45. $95
9MM $115
Colt Python $120
Sub-Machine Guns Cost
Tec-9 $140
Ingram Mac 10 $150
Uzi $180
MP5 $250
Shotguns Cost
Chrome Shotgun $250
Stubby Shotgun $300
Spaz 12 Shotgun $400
Machine Guns Cost
Ruger P $450
M4 $650
Sniper Rifles Cost
Sniper Rifle $300
PSG-1 $950
Throwables Cost
Molotovs $5
Tear Gas $30
Grenades $60
Detonative Grenades $75
Heavy Firepower Cost
Flamethrower $2,000
Rocket Launcher $3,000
Minigun $5,000

 

 

user posted image

 

 

Vehicles Availibility Cost
Admiral 3 $300
Angel 3 $350
Ambulance 3 $500
BF Injection 3 $450
Baggage Handler 3 $200
Banshee 3 $800
Barracks OL 3 $2,000
Benson 3 $700
Blista Compact 3 $600
Bloodring Banger 3 $750
Bobcat 3 $500
Boxville 3 $650
Burrito 3 $550
Bus 3 $1,500
Cabbie 3 $500
Caddy 3 $250
Cheetah 3 $850
Coach 3 $1,600
Comet 3 $750
Cuban Hermes 3 $550
Deluxo 3 $1,500
Enforcer 3 $2,500
Esperanto 3 $450
FBI Rancher 3 $900
FBI Washington 3 $950
Faggio Scooter 3 $250
Fire Truck 3 $3,000
Flatbed 3 $1,700
Freeway 3 $500
Gang Burrito 3 $500
Glendale 3 $300
Greenwood 3 $200
Hermes 3 $500
Infernus 3 $1,200
Idaho 3 $600
Kaufman Cab 3 $400
Landstalker 3 $450
LineRunner 3 $700
Love Fist Limo 3 $3,000
Manana 3 $450
Mesa Grande 3 $500
Moonbeam 3 $350
Mr Whoopee 3 $1,000
Mule 3 $500
Oceanic 3 $500
PCJ-600 3 $600
Packer 3 $750
Patriot 3 $650
Perennial 3 $350
Phoenix 3 $650
Pizza Boy Scooter 3 $300
Police Car 3 $900
Police Cheetah 3 $1,000
Pony 3 $300
Rancher 3 $450
Regina 3 $450
Rhino 3 $5,000
Rumpo 3 $250
Sabre 3 $600
Sabre Turbo 3 $750
Sanchez 3 $450
Sand King 3 $800
Securicar 3 $1,500
Sentinel 3 $450
Sentinel XS 3 $550
Stallion 3 $450
Stinger 3 $650
Stretch 3 $1,750
Taxi 3 $450
Top Fun Van 3 $750
Trashmaster 3 $750
Virgo 3 $350
Voodoo 3 $650
Walton 3 $300
Washington 3 $500
Yankee 3 $450
Zebra Cab 3 $500
Boats Availibility Cost
Coast Guard 3 $1,500
Cuban Jetmax 3 $1,500
Dinghy 3 $500
Predator 3 $1,300
Reefer 3 $1,500
Rio 3 $1,400
Squalo 3 $1,300
Tropic 3 $1,500
Flight Vehicles Availibility Cost
Hunter 3 $4,000
Maverick 3 $2,000
Police Maverick 3 $4,500
Skimmer 3 $5,000
VCN Maverick 3 $4,000

 

 

Rackets, Assets and Businesses
Rackets, Assets and Businesses are a great way to earn your gang large sums of money, Rackets are the illegal way to earn cash while Businesses are more or less the formal and legal way to earn cash. However they all go to the gang's cause and if the feds find them, they will be confiscated.

 

How to work rackets and businesses and Assets is very simple, it only requires two things; A building and an asset - The asset is the only income you recieve as the buildings themselves generate no income. Each Business or racket costs an initial fixed price. Upon purchasing a racket you gain one free Asset. Once you purchase a building and asset, they will be displayed in your gang's box.

 

All Assets cost one quarter of their racket or business's initial price. Also! If you ever want to earn more from your racket or business, then you have to buy another building. Only three racket or businesses can be owned by a gang at one time.

 

Assets themselves also earn your gang money from their jobs, your gang can constantly keep these workers running, the cash flow is infinite and every week each asset will generate 10% of their cost, E.g. One Drug dealer asset costs $400, so every sunday $40 will be distributed into that gang's cash amount. You can have a maximum of five assets to a racket or business.

 

The weekly income generated from each type of asset is listed in brackets after the cost of each asset.

 

 

Racket Cost Asset Cost Income per Asset
Weed Farm
$1,200
Harvester
$350
$35
Crack Den
$1,400
Dealer
$400
$40
Brothel
$1,600
Whore
$500
$50
Protection Ring
$1,800
Enforcer
$550
$55
Cocaine Ring
$2,000
Smuggler
$600
$60
Theft Ring
$2,200
Thief
$750
$75
Burglary Circuit
$2,600
Burglar
$800
$80

 

Business Cost Asset Cost Income per Asset
Cafe
$1,200
Waitress/Waiter
$350
$35
Bar
$1,400
Bartender
$400
$40
Restaurant
$1,600
Waiter/Waitress
$550
$55
Docking Depot
$2,100
Sailor
$650
$65
Taxi Service
$2,300
Driver
$700
$70
Strip Club
$2,500
Stripper
$800
$80
Car Dealership
$2,800
Car Salesman
$800
$80
Casino
$3,500
Croupier
$1,000
$100

 

 

Drug Rules and Regulations
1.Once your gang purchases drugs, the only problems are with the authorities of vice, (BUYG Staff)
2.In order to be able to use drugs functionally within your gang, you must post two stories: One describing you buying the drugs, the other shwoing you selling the drugs.
3.BUYVG Staff will act as Vice city's Feds, FBI and police. We have the power to confiscate weapons, cash and vehicles, randomly-however if you feel like you are being treated unfairly, any of the staff will be more than happy to cooperate. If you don't like something being confiscated, maybe you should of stayed out of the drug game, Playa'.
4.Money from the Wholesale amount will immediately be added to your gangs money status. However depending on the quantity, a roll of dice shall determine a 'Tax' turn in which 25% of your money will be tributed to higher-ups.
5.Do NOT! abuse the drug system, buying increased amounts over and over will result in the Feds finding you and confiscating all of your stash. You can be limited to 3 drug purchases a week.

 

 

Product
Amount of Product
Cost
Wholesale Amount
Love Juice
1 Litre (0.26 Gallons)
$35
$50
Love Juice
2 Litres (0.52 Gallons)
$70
$140
Love Juice
1 Gallon (4 Litres)
$180
$360
Boomshine
1 Litre (0.26 Gallons)
$40
$80
Boomshine
2 Litres (0.52 Gallons)
$80
$160
Boomshine
1 Gallon (4 Litres)
$220
$440
Marijuana
3.5 Grams
$25
$40
Marijuana
Ounce (28 Grams)
$1,000
$1,400
Marijuana
Pound (16 Ounces or 448 Grams)
$2,000
$2,200
Marijuana
Kilo (2.2 Pounds or 998 Grams)
$2,300
$2,500
SPANK
1 gram
$55
$70
SPANK
teener (1.5 grams)
$80
$95
SPANK
ball (3.5 grams)
$160
$185
SPANK
Ounce (28 Grams)
$900
$1,000
SPANK
Pound (16 ounces)
$6,000
$8,250
Ectasy
1 Pill
$5
$10
Ectasy
100 Pills
$1,400
$1,800
Ectasy
1000 Pills
$4,500
$7,000
Ectasy
10,000 Pills
$7,000
$10,000
Crack Cocaine
1 Gram
$70
$110
Crack Cocaine
Ounce (26 Grams)
$800
$1,500
Crack Cocaine
Pound (16 Ounces or 448 Grams)
$4,500
$5,750
Heroin
1 Gram
$260
$380
Heroin
Ounce (28 Grams)(
$800
$1,450
Heroin
Pound (16 Ounces or 448 Grams)
$4,700
$6,900
Crystal Meth
1 Gram
$90
$130
Crystal Meth
Ball (3.5 Grams)
$250
$320
Crystal Meth
Half-Ounce (14 Grams)
$580
$700
Crystal Meth
Ounce (28 Grams)
$4,700
$6,900
Crystal Meth
Pound (16 Ounces or 448 Grams)
$8,000
$9,600

 

 

Gang Wars

 

Gang wars are another great way to make money, the rules of a gang war are simple. A gang war is initiated by one gang member adressing another, if the gang member accepts then it will start. They're ag reat way to add some exciting action into your gang member's lives.RulesA gang war consists of 3 stories; A beginning, a middle and an end. Each member must write three of them, the victor will win a cash prize of $500 and a Vehicle of their choice in the opposing losers garage. One BUYG staff will moderate the gang wars, them and only them can solely decide the victor, depending on Detail, Grammar and punctuation.

 

 

Updates are in progress
Edited by Build Up Your Vice Gang
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Ziggy455
Wasn't this already made? lol.gif

Yes, although I posted it on the wrong account, my account: Ziggy455, smile.gif Although it's in the process of lock and deletion, this is the real topic.

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WelcomeToLibertyCity

I don't know, I have doubts if this topic will get popular... If it does I'll consider joining. Good luck Ziggy!

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Ziggy455
I don't know, I have doubts if this topic will get popular... If it does I'll consider joining. Good luck Ziggy!

Thanks man, don't worry, It'll get popular if people spread the word. If it goes off with a bang, would you consider moderation?

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Tyler

I would consider moderation, and a spot in the Cafe Robina as the Cubano's my friend.

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Ari Gold

Sign me up for the Abandoned Villa on Prawn Island, hombre. This looks promising.

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Landstalker

I would like to join the Vercetti's at the Pole Club Position, please. And, what you call "moderations right", if it is not too much asking.

 

What is the Skumole Shack for the Bikers? Is it the wooden thing on the roof of a building that Tommy can buy?

 

I have an idea about the gang territories. PM me if you want to know it.

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Build Up Your Vice Gang
I would like to join the Vercetti's at the Pole Club Position, please. And, what you call "moderations right", if it is not too much asking.

 

What is the Skumole Shack for the Bikers? Is it the wooden thing on the roof of a building that Tommy can buy?

 

I have an idea about the gang territories. PM me if you want to know it.

Yes, the Skumole Shack is the small hut. smile.gif

 

All players have been added to their respective gangs, start uploading stories people. I'll grade as soon as they're posted.

 

On another note, Vice City story gangs are into consideration; Including The Vance crime family-led now by Pete vance.

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WelcomeToLibertyCity
I don't know, I have doubts if this topic will get popular... If it does I'll consider joining. Good luck Ziggy!

Thanks man, don't worry, It'll get popular if people spread the word. If it goes off with a bang, would you consider moderation?

If this picks up, I would be glad to help you out. I'll check every so often to see how many members there are and stuff. Contact me if you feel like asking anything or need some help, I'm pretty experienced with BUYG SA and IV.

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Ziggy455
I don't know, I have doubts if this topic will get popular... If it does I'll consider joining. Good luck Ziggy!

Thanks man, don't worry, It'll get popular if people spread the word. If it goes off with a bang, would you consider moderation?

If this picks up, I would be glad to help you out. I'll check every so often to see how many members there are and stuff. Contact me if you feel like asking anything or need some help, I'm pretty experienced with BUYG SA and IV.

 

 

Thanks dude, if you'd like to moderate, feel free to ask me for the password to the account, recruiting game players is the only problem. However I'm thinking of adding deadlines, to keep it active, smile.gif

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Build Up Your Vice Gang

Unoriginal44: Added to Cubans at Cafe Robina.

Landstalker: Added as BUYVG Staff.

 

Edited by Build Up Your Vice Gang
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Ari Gold

 

The Sharks - Abandoned Villa

Chapter 1 - Prologue

Friday 1st of August 1986, 6:01 pm

Escobar International Airport, Florida

 

"Passengers for Flight 57 to Liberty City, please make your way to the departure lounge at Terminal 3; boarding time will take place in a few minutes."

 

The voice of the PA system at Escobar International Airport continually ringed throughout my ears as I waited at the luggage pick-up point. I was as tired as a dog; I had just sat on a pulsatingly boring flight from Los Santos which lasted what seemed like an eternity, but was only 5 hours. It was 6:00 pm, and the muggy, moisture-laced air was wreaking havoc on my oily, post-pubescent skin. The fact that I had misjudged the weather and donned a pair of jeans wasn't exactly a fruitful decision, either.

 

My name is Aleksandar Djilas, and I'm here for a new start. I turned 18 last November, and two months ago I graduated from Hashbury District High School in San Fierro. Ever since I grew up as a young kid on Los Santos' west side, I had dreams of living in Vice City. The glitz, the glamour, the women and the sunshine; it was all a dream for me. Los Santos was a fantastic place, but it was very 'plastic-y'; everyone was a shyster, a crook or a loser. My parents divorced when I was a young child, so I lived between homes, and coming from a strict Yugoslav background, my heritage was strictly enforced on me from a young age. The values from the old country which were instilled in me as a youngster ("Always respect the family, no matter what happens; always respect everyone else and receive respect in return diligently, and whatever you actions you partake in, do so with dignity") were essentially useless in such a corrupt city like Los Santos, where people would sell their own mother to get ahead in the food chain.

 

Vice City portrayed everything which I had dreamt for as a young child, where success and respect was earned, not given, and where the rewards for success outnumbered the population of the city. I was ready for my new life, a fresh start, and I was willing and prepared to work from the ground up.

 

Nothing’s gonna stop me.

 

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

 

I know that was short, but it's basically just a slight introduction into my character and his background. I'm going to be moving through this slowly, but that way I'll be able to flesh out the story more and make it more interesting.

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Build Up Your Vice Gang

Stefche: Nice introduction, S. Since it's your first story posted and length was alright, I'll send your Sharks $50.

 

Board was updated.

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I would like to join the Bikers Greasy Chopper please.

And I created an artwork for them. Hehe.

user posted image

Chapter 1: Start Your Engines!

 

I woke up in the Greasy Chopper with puke all over my face. That was a classical case of a f*cked up hangover and all I could remember was me drinking a shot of whiskey. Or vodka, I'm still not sure what the hell I drank though but it sure as hell tasted good.

 

As I stumbled my way through the restroom of the bar to wash the puke out off my face, Big Mitch Baker, A.K.A Mr President of The Bikers, smacked me hard in the head to get my attention. Imagine just waking up from a f*cked up hangover and getting smacked hard on the head. Not a good feeling of course.

 

I fell clumsily onto the floor and Big Mitch Baker helped me up and said something like a greeting. "Hello Mr. Vice President. Had a good drink last night?"

 

I was still drunk and could not make out what he was saying. All I heard was Mr. Vice President. I mumbled, "Vice President? Why that's f*cking me!"

 

"Yes that is you. Now wake up Drake!" He shouted out so loud I felt my brains falling out of my ears.

 

I fell again, this time, I found myself in the restroom. "Uh, who's Drake?"

 

Big Mitch Baker felt annoyed, "That's you dumbass. Drake West, Vice President of the Vice City Bikers. Wash yourself and get the f*ck outside!"

 

I was sober as I could be after I washed my face off. I strolled out the Greasy Chopper to find my fellow bikers with Big Mitch Baker on their bikes. A prospect, Newton Marlon, was preparing my Angel for me. He really had high respect for me since I am the VP. My bike would always be super clean when he's around it.

 

I got on my bike and thanked Newton, "Good job my trusty prospect. Here take this tip and get yourself one helluva hangover like I did."

 

"You're very welcome but I ain't gonna buy me a hangover. I'm gonna buy me a hooker!" Newton always love the ladies.

 

I fistpumped him for that, "Amen my brother."

 

I started my Angel and the engine was as sweet as ever but the bike that was just behind me was stronger than mine. The engine roared through the whole Downtown and I easily recognised whose bike it was. I looked behind and saw Otto, the Sargeant At Arms of the club, starting his fearsome Freeway. He's one scary motherf*cker with a terrfying bike.

 

He came up to me and asked, "Do you know what we doing?"

 

"Live free?" What else could the Bikers do?

 

Otto chuckled, "That, and a protection run for the Love Fist band. We gotta escort their limo and them to some rocking concert in Little Haiti."

 

At first, I just thought it was another day on the job but then I realized it was just a band. "Protection run for Love Fist? Seriously who's gonna attack them?"

 

Otto kind of agreed on that, "Well yeah, just a band. But let me rephrase my sentence, rocking concert in Little Haiti."

 

And the thought soon came up onto me. Little Haiti, Haitians. Rocking concert for Haitians, that could not be good. I gave a nod to Otto and the Bikers started rolling to the Love Fist studio.

 

When we arrived, Kent Paul and Love Fist were already in their limo. Big Mitch Baker signalled them the green light to go, ensuring it is safe. "Get in formation people! Keep your eyes sharp for any Haitians."

 

The VP always drive beside the President so I revved up my bike to stay in the same speed as Big Mitch Baker.

 

I could tell Big Mitch Baker was already hating that protection run when he said to me while we were following the limo, "Love Fist are really a group of dumbasses. The Haitians are already very protective on their turf and they want to play they? What kind of Haitian listens to rock?"

 

I could not resist joking, "Well they are Love Fist. They spread the love but in return they get a pack full of fists."

 

Big Mitch Baker, apparently, did not get the joke, "The irony."

 

We were not even near Little Haiti when we heard the first gunshot onto the limo. One of the bandmates screamed, "f*ck NO I DON'T WANT TO f*ckING DIE!" Crying could be heard in the limo even from a distance. Shows how the band got some good vocals.

 

Haitians soon popped out from everywhere. Otto toss me a stubby shotgun and I felt hyped to blast it away on some black garbage.

 

Big Mitch Baker ordered us to get into cover and the war was on. Gunshots flew everywhere and a Haitian shot my Angel. That really got my adrenaline running. You can f*cked with a man's life but you do not f*cked with his bike. I spotted the Haitian who shot my bike and I ran towards him, not caring about the bullets whizzing past me. I sneaked around him and fired my shotgun behind him. I think I dislocated his shoulder. "f*cking prick." I shot him again for the sheer hell of it. Big Mitch Baker shouted at me, "Drake for f*ck sake's don't go commando at a moment like this! Follow me while we escort Love Fist to safety. And try not to get shot you dumbass!"

 

All this and I still felt a little bit drunk.

 

 

 

EDIT: Sorry I didnt realized the artwork was too big. Will post a smaller one next time

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mrpain: mrpain has been added to bikers with a story count of one.

 

Your first story has alot of repetition, big mitch baker and VP are repeated at least seven to eight times- just call him Mitch, You wouldn't say Tommy vercetti punched a man then Tommy vercetti had a beer. Try to switch up the words, the length was good but paragraphs were short.

 

All in all I hope to see an improvement while you are playing, I'll place $40 in the bikers faction. Thanks for the Artwork, I'll try to tweak it for you. smile.gif

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Landstalker

Vercetti Gang - Pole Position Club

Chapter One - Prologue

Tuesday 6th of April 1986, 13:27:12 pm

Ex-Bower Cruise Ship, Flordia, Ocean near Vice City

Sunny day

 

 

The Korean looking man, was waiting on the ship deck facing the hot and beatiful sun, tipical, of Flordia, Vice City. He was having black hair, red eyes, he had not a lot of muscles, the same for his fatness and was white or yellow. In fact, no one could say by the time. All of that because; he was hidding himself the best he could. No one knew his name, his age or either where he came from, even, if he was looking a little bit Korean. The man was strange, even weird some persons exagerated, calm, gentle, helpful, not talkative and was on his guard every time, every where and even while doing something relaxing. The Korean was at the same spot every day or in his chamber. That Korean was me.

 

I was about to get some sleep when I saw Vice City dock. I was about to return to my chamber to get my things when the cruise ship, Ex-Bower, stopped for no reason. Every one was suspicious. We heard some shoots and cry from the place where the captain was boating the ship. I approached the location and saw four guys with M4 exiting the murder place. I hidded the best I could against the wall. More of them arrived by Predator, Reefer and Maverick. All of them were armed of M4 too. In total, they were twenty with the four others who were already aboard. I runned toward the stairs and got downstairs to my room.

 

When I reached my room, I entered it, took my things and ran to the other side of the corridor. I took the right stairs. At the same time, five armed guys arrived in the corridor by the other set of stairs. Me, in all my state, with my adrenaline, sprinted to the front of the cruise ship and jumped out of the boat. Fortunately, I jumped bad and got on one of the Reefer the attackers used. When the engine started running, I boated the boat as fast as I could. Those guys still got able to get a shot or two on the boat. I reached the docks and...

 

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

 

I know it's short but it's just a prologue.

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I would love to be part of the staff.

Sure, Os. Just PM if you need the password. smile.gif

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Landstalker

I typed "Flordia" right. Since Vice City is a sort of Miami, I thought that I could make Florida become Flordia.

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I've been asked to repost my first chapter from the locked topic, so here it is. I've also included Chapter Two.

 

Series One, Chapter One

Prologue.

 

Bleakly scattered clouds of industrial pollution obscured the early morning twilight overhead the distant city limits on the outskirts of Liberty. Fog rolled across the rippling waves, the flickering red lights of buoys dancing within the water poked through the mist littered across the seascape. The isolated patch of land purposely sat far away from the rest of humanity; those who had parented its construction wanted to see to it that those that made a visit there became permanent residents of this segregated society, exiled from those innocents they deemed to be honest, hard-working citizens. Liberty City Maximum Security Penitentiary was a hell, known as one of the toughest high security wings in the country. Only the toughest survived, it was rare for anyone to ever prosper.

 

The prison lay dead, the high concrete walls laced with spikes of barbed wire surrounded by seemingly complete silence. Inside, activity was prospering within a murky corridor, a crowd of three guards lined up outside a tightly restricted cell, congregating around a thickly bound steel door. It had been an early start for the prisoner, whom they led away in solemness through the winding turns that appeared to lead to nowhere.

 

A balding corrections officer lay slumped across a dimly lit desk, resting his head within his palms. Years of early starts and watching cons come and go did little to improve his work ethic. The group arrived and like clockwork, spread themselves apart behind the departing guest. Cockily, the officer in the middle gave him a shove forward with the butt of his baton, to which the prisoner did not flinch, only allowing himself to regain his straight posture. Awoken by orders, the corrections officer began to unearth the forgotten possessions in which the man of custody had hold of at the time of his arrest; a particularly gruesome incident.

 

Pushed across the desk were a beaten brown leather jacket, a slashed and torn black undershirt and dark trousers, the prisoner being instructed to take them into his hands. Seventy-Three Dollars and several spare cents were also placed down on the desk; a monetary amount once within his wallet. Finally, the officer rolled out a form accompanied with a pen.

 

Signing on the dotted line, he stepped backwards and was led away by anxious guards to change out of the once bright orange jumpsuit he had donned for so long. The time had arrived for him to finally be paroled, but those that knew of him were almost certain he would return. Sent down at twenty, it was aged thirty-five that Tommy Vercetti would become a free man once more.

 

They led him to a small sail boat moored outside the facility; water was the only means of access. They marched him on board, exercising their authority over him until the last second, but the image of Prison was soon to be a distant memory. For Tommy, it had been fifteen years of his life, and he had made sure each day had been well spent. Planning, plotting, strengthening himself within his own bounds. He made a point of keeping his head down and not saying a word, not even considering selling out the Forelli Family in return for a house and new identity upstate. Tommy had a very personal beef with the Forelli’s, a score he deemed only himself worthy of settling. It was a testament to his strength that he had waited so long for his chance to put things right, never publicly voicing any dissatisfaction with Sonny Forelli; a name that Tommy once pledged his loyalty to, a name involved in his imprisonment, a name rumoured to have orchestrated it.

 

A guard tossed a rope ashore, guiding the boat to a stop beside the land of Shoreside Vale. The other occupied himself unlocking the door on the deck, providing the gateway to the free land. Tommy walked along the short plank of wood connected to the pathway, the early morning sunrise now piercing it’s way through the rolling clouds of dusk; a new day, a new beginning. He wanted to get the ball rolling, and decided visiting an old haunt would be a good place to start. Walking down the gravel laden beaten track back to civilization as the boat engines stirred away from the shoreline, his gaze shifted to a chequered taxi cab travelling along the street; he extended his arm and flagged it down, climbing into the back seat, passing a handful of aged notes forth into the driver’s hand.

 

“Take me to Saint Marks.”

 

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

 

Series One, Chapter Two

Saint Marks, Portland, 1986

 

RUNNING feet pounded the street in desperation, he nervously threw his head over his shoulders to see if they were still there. Cold lines of sweat poured down the pimps head, inappropriately dressed in a blue pinstripe tuxedo with an immaculate pearl white rosette in the breast pocket. He began to fling his arms up into the air, dicing his way through the crowds of morning window shoppers as the mobster appeared from around the corner, eyes darting in his direction.

 

Breaking free of the crowds, he felt sure that he had escaped their wrath. For the pimp had been dealing narcotics; acting as an associate of Sonny Forelli and with Sonny’s permission, had been pushing in the Red Light District, Forelli Family turf. The pimp had been dealing to his girls, who then offered it to their clients, and the ordeal soon became a vicious circle, the pimp unable to control his loose tongue. It had sealed his fate; bragging in the various seedy dive bars about his new found wealth, about how he was the man, about how he was on the up. Sonny feared this would bring attention from the other families of his growing interest in drugs; something he wished to keep at arms length. Sonny had passed control over the hit down to Franco Forelli, his cousin and a Capo within the family; whom was also involved in the narcotics ambition.

 

Nearly free, the sight of a second mobster pouncing in his direction from around the corner averted his path to freedom down an alleyway. It was a dead end, his feet became stone as he was faced with nothing but a brick wall; he span around to see the two mobsters joining in synchrony at the head of the alleyway, slowly walking towards him as he backed up against the wall.

 

“Got you now, you f*ck.” Pronounced one of the mobsters, struggling for breath. Compared to his counterpart; a significantly younger man, he was considerably overweight, sporting a protruding gut from beneath his open jacket.

 

“What’s this about, man? What did I do to you?” The pimp pleaded.

 

“You know what you did,” The mobster spat at the pimp’s feet, barely missing his patterned loafers, “Don’t pretend your the f*ckin’ victim here.”

 

“f*ck you! Your ‘gonna have to get me, bitch!” The pimp raised his hands, prepared to fight. He knew deep down it wouldn’t end well for him, but his back was against the wall; he had to come out swinging. Considerably well built, he stood every chance.

 

Pugnacious and taciturn, the two mobsters stood side by side, legs parted in stance for a brawl. Like lightning, the younger mobster leapt forward, landing a quick short jab on the pimp’s jaw, disorientating him enough to be able to tug his hands behind his back, leaving his torso open for his partner to go to work. The elder Mafioso withdrew a switchblade from the pocket within his leather coat, and eagerly flicked the blade out of the weapon. As junior held back the pimp, senior slowly plunged the knife deep into the pimps chest, pulling it out amongst groans of pain and alarming amounts of blood withdrawal. For a second time, he brought back his arm, stabbing another wound in the pimp’s torso. Junior felt rushing warm sensations over his hand, used to cover the victims mouth; blood began to convulse inside of him, having being fatally stabbed, he began to cough it up from his gut. Defeated, he keeled over onto the rugged stone, dead.

 

“Get the car.” Instructed Junior, pulling the corpse by the arms behind a corner, in hope of temporarily concealing it. Off wandered Senior to go collect his vehicle, left just around the corner from where they had chased their mark to his death.

 

The cab ride from Shoreside Vale was dominated by extended bouts of silence, the only sounds being the engine and the driver heading into furious rages at other motorists. It pulled to the curb outside a row of terraced housing in the heart of Saint Marks, Portland. As soon as Tommy set foot on the tarmac of the hustling, bustling street, the cab shot away, and he was left facing a run-down old guest house, littered in graffiti and brutal neglect. A twenty four hour neon sat in the window amongst some blinds; barely visible in the daylight.

 

The Forelli mobster parked his car in the opposite alleyway, stepping out and anxiously looking around for anyone who would potentially witness them stuffing a corpse into the back of his vehicle. Scanning the crowd of the street opposite, his face turned to stone when his gaze caught sight of Tommy Vercetti, who had little reservations about openly looking around, casually reminiscing about the times he had spent in this neighbourhood. Shocked at the sight of Vercetti, Senior hurried to tell Junior.

 

“You won’t f*ckin’ believe this...”

 

Unaware he had picked up any attention, Tommy walked into the guest house in front of him, taking a stand at the front desk, where a man was fast asleep after spending the night on late shift. A stray cigarette burned dying embers in a dish, and a small television sat on top of a cabinet showcased the fine offerings of children's television. The bright colors and dancing characters in costumes didn't capture Tommy's imagination, who banged his fist on the desk, awakening the clerk who jumped to attention.

 

“I’d like a room.” Tommy stared down at the man.

 

“Yeah? I’d like to screw Candy Suxxx...” The clerk responded sarcastically, but changed his tune when he saw Tommy remove money from his jacket, “But I think we can accommodate you, sir.”

 

Tommy nodded, understandingly, placing the remainder of his money upon the desk. It was enough to get him a bed for the night.

 

“Here’s your key.” The clerk pushed a small key across the desk.

 

“Thanks.” Tommy picked it up and walked away, looking at the room number – three – embroiled on the key ring.

 

The stairs were old, creaking as Tommy walked. Several rooms were loitered throughout the corridor. Moans and screams could be heard beyond the doors of the first he passed; a hooker and her client, while there wasn’t a sound from the second. Room number three was on the corner, just across from the stairwell. Entering, what was before him was old, and worn, but it was a roof over his head. He parked himself on the sofa, contemplating when he would get himself back on the streets; he wanted to alert the Forelli Family to his presence back on the streets of Portland, and wasn’t the type to hang around waiting.

 

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

 

Chapter Three & more coming up soon.

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Tyla: First story already added smile.gif Money for the inconvenience of double posting was also added and a great second chapter, the atmosphere was brilliant and setting two scenes at once is a brave but clever thing to do. I'll pay $60 for the story, can't wait for the next chapter-it looks promising.

 

 

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Tyler

Prologue: Setting the Atmosphere

______________________________

 

 

Vice ,2010. Many years after Tommy Vercetti took over, I'd say about 1994, the new Haitian leader Poppa Bomblet proposed a peaceful end to gang disputes in vice. The ,man talked like a diplomat, constantly asking for peace in Vice City. Finally after months of talk, All the leaders of every big gang in Vice met up at the Hotel San Andreas downtown, to talk of peace and prosperity.

 

 

I was new back then. New to crime and the Cuban way. 1994, I had turned 19 and was going to see Vice become a happy city for once. Our leader at the time Umberto Robina, gathered Dominque, Armando, Erik, Salazar and me for the representatives of the Cubano's. "Now I understand you might now think peace is possible, but we been fighting for too long here. I need you all acting respectful, and mabye we can end our troubles in this town for f*cks sake!" We all knew he was anxious about this thing, since he was now officially the longest ruling leader in Vice City, even if he wasn't the most powerful.

 

On saturday, we all shuffled into two seperate taxi's, and drove to the meet. All the main men were there. Vercetti, Bomblet, Scorcsi the leader of the Sharks, everyone. We all sat in a business room of the lobby, making small talk while the leaders got comfortable in the high chair's at the table.

 

"Quiet, everyone of you," The room quickly ceased any kind of chatter, and we all turned to Bomblet, who was sitting facing everyone else. "Now then, you all agreed to come here under one pretence. Peace. Peace for us all no? Well my friends it seems like dispite what you may think, peace may not be so hard. Look at this here, we got Sharks, right next to the Gomez boys, and look over there, we got Cuban's right next to the Vercetti Ranger's. Now let me say this again, mabye peace ain't so hard huh?" Everyone listened to him while he spoke, his voice mezmerizing us all with propaganda. "Now here's the deal. We got hundred's of Gang member's, in fact we got over 2,000 gang member's for every 1,500 cops. Now why are we still having trouble taking over this town? Well, I think mabye we are wasting our time fighting each other, when we could be fighting them cops," everyone was agreeing quietly while he paused for a moment. Suddenly, a haitian man walked up to Bomblet and whispered something into his ear. He nodded and sent the boy off, then continued. I watched the boy as he walked out of the room, and followed him subtley.

 

He walked into the hotel lobby and up to a toll booth, and started talking to someone hastily as he looked around. I hid behind a crowd of executives and listened as closly as I could. "No,no the San Andreas that's where tey are mate'. Ok, ok get them ready and go through te front doors, we go through the back at 1:20. alrght mate this good," he hung up and started walking back. I ducked below a couch and ran back into the room. " What the hell was that about meyn?" Erik was looking at me as I sat down. " Look I think something is up. Get everyone ready at 1:20, that haitian boy was talking to someone about it. Mabye the cops I don't know"

"The f*ck, alrght," He nugded everyone else and quietly told them to kee on alert.

 

It was 15 past one, and I got prepared, grabing my gun on my hind waist. " So my friends, we can all collaberate, Sharks will take over the racket's, while Cuban's get the Fronts, Haitians getting the drugs, and Vercetti will take any political jobs. Now then, does anyone have something to offer up or want to take?" 1:20 ticked in and as if by clockwork, a group of men walked into the hotel. All zipped in black masayko army outfits, fitting hard glass masks, and holding AK- 74's by their sides. They all quietly gaurded around the door of the room, and got into cover. On the other side, Bomblet continued speaking. "wait a minute I'm sorry I must use the restroom," he muffled as he walked out the back door with the boy, and two other haitians, Ferro and Selconi. As soon as he did this, I and Erik sat up and stood ready, just in case.

 

Crash! the door's fell in and 4 men rushed in, guns blazing. Men stood up, and were quickly gunned down. I fell backwords and curled up behind the couch. Erik did the same, but the others were quickly shot to death. I pulled my tec-9 out and blindly shot over the couch toward the door. My ears were ringing loudly from gunshots everywere. I drew up and pointed at the one farthest left, and fired half of my clip into him. He dropped down and fell ontop of his own gun, and made it fire into a Haitian running at him with a knife.I grabbed Erik and pointed at the back door. We crawled past bodies and couches, finally reaching the door. I pulled up and ran outside into the Shining sun. " We gotta get Umberto man, I saw him he need-"

"He's dead Erik, he's f*cking dead. Nothing we can do for him now. Let's just get back home," I dropped my tec-9 and started slowly jogging back to little Havanna. Beach shined on to the left of us, glimmering with beautiful women.

 

Couple of hours later, as I watched the news, the report came in about the hotel shooting. Apparently the thugs were haitian mercenaries. I felt like ripping that lying peace of sh*t a new *sshole. I knew though, that before we did this, me and Erik would have to help the Cuban's get back on track. Umberto was dead, and so was every leuteneit that we had. Erik was next in line, so on Monday, we here going to get every man we could to the Cafe, to talk about our next move...

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Series One, Chapter Three

Marco's Bistro, 1986

 

TIRES squealed, eager hands throwing the driving wheel around the corner into the discreetly positioned courtyard of Marco’s Bistro. The Bistro sat on top of a winding hill in the heart of Saint Marks, just opposite the El Train station and backing onto lines of terraced housing occupied by hard working Dockers. It was their time to leave their work at Portland Docks, they were rushing home along the pavements and pouring out of the hourly train as another pair of workers began to get busy.

 

Parking up aside a row of steps, the mobsters stepped out of their car and walked over to a figure leaning against them, cupping a cigar in his hands that was lit by a second man.

 

“Franco, we took care of that thing.” Tony, the eldest Mafioso, proudly announced to his contractor, Franco Forelli.

 

“Where is he?”

 

“In the trunk.” Anthony, the youngest of the two mobsters spoke. He was keen to appear as a rising star in Franco's eyes. He was young, on the make, and tired of being Tony's junior.

 

“Put him in the freezer,” Franco took a long drag of his cigar, then exhaled a thick cloud of smoke into the faces of the two men before him, “Dino, help ‘em out.” He patted his associate on the back, gently pushing him forwards.

 

“There’s one more thing,” Tony piped up, “We caught sight of Tommy f*ckin’ Vercetti earlier on...”

 

Interrupting, not appearing overly shocked, but keenly intrigued, Franco inquired, “Where?”

 

“Down in Saint Marks, goin’ into that guest house.”

 

Franco nodded, knowing well of Tommy Vercetti, knowing well of why the Forelli Family kept him at arms length. Vercetti was intensely disliked within the Forelli Family; it’s members weren’t about to welcome him back with open arms, “Thank you Tony.” Franco let the cigar drop to the floor, squashing the remaining embers with his tailored Italian shoe. He turned and walked up the stairs without a word, heading through to the bar as his associates began to unload the corpse of the unfortunate pimp murdered earlier on, and dragged him up the steps, into the backroom saloon of Marco’s Bistro. They pushed the body through a hook, between two large cuts of meat; they admired their work, and placed a quarter in the jukebox tucked away in the corner.

 

Their socialising banter was interrupted by the arrival of two men, both of whom instantly stamped their mark on the room, commanding the three to attention. Sonny Forelli, the boss of the Forelli Family, his accompanying associate and cousin, Giorgio Forelli, set foot through the saloon doors, and unnerved them instantly with cold looks as if to tell them they were misplaced. As Sonny’s bodyguard stepped towards them, the three decided to flee; heading out to the bar. They passed Franco Forelli, who was also heading to the back room for a routine sit down with the hierarchy.

 

After introductions and pleasantries were exchanged; consisting mostly of forced hugs and pats on backs, the inner circle of the Forelli Family sat around a wide wooden table in the centre of the room. A jukebox in the corner hummed a tune, and the smells from the kitchen wafted through the lounge doors. Sonny Forelli headed the table, a large man with a fiery temper and nervous disposition. His two relatives sat either side. To the left, Capo Franco Forelli sat still in his seat, and to the right, cousin Giorgio Forelli fidgeted in his. Franco knew he had to present the news of Vercetti’s release to Sonny, and the presence of Sonny’s hulking bodyguard was unnerving him. He was a quiet man, average in height and build. Looking at him, one wouldn’t realise he was a mobster in control of Staunton Island’s vast rackets, but appearances could be deceptive. He knew Sonny’s nature would soon run them into the ground, and was already formulating a plan to take over. Greed was always Franco’s vice, but luck was an unpredictable partner.

 

“Guess who just got paroled...” Franco said to Sonny, who responded by looking at him blankly, shrugging his shoulders and slouching back in his chair comfortably, “Tommy Vercetti.”

 

Sonny shot upright in his seat, trying to conceal a look of disbelief. Gone was his relaxed posture. “Tommy Vercetti? Huh... sh*t. Didn’t think they’d ever let him out!”

 

“He kept his head down. Helped people forget.”

 

“People will remember soon enough!” Sonny countered on the defensive, “When they see him walking the streets of their neighbourhoods it will be bad for business.”

 

Giorgio Forelli perked up, having just taken a sip of cold water from his glass, “So, what are we gonna do, Sonny?” Giorgio was a man of little intelligence, brought into the hierarchy for the sake of him being a relative. His escapades were legendary, and there were rumours being passed around of a second life he led. Harmful rumours; rumours he had killed men for to stop them talking.

 

Sonny rubbed his forehead and looked over to Giorgio, knowing he had to save face in front of his dumb cousin, and especially in front of a man as ambitious and greedy as Franco. “We treat him like an old friend and keep him busy out of town, okay?” Sonny waited on both men nodding in approval before carrying on, “Vice City is twenty-four carat gold these days. The Columbians, the Mexicans, hell, even those Cuban refugees are cutting themselves a piece of some nice action.”

 

Franco sipped water from his glass, raising an eyebrow to Sonny’s suggestion, “But it’s all drugs, Sonny, none of the families will touch that sh*t.”

 

“Times are changing. The families can’t keep their backs turned while our enemies reap the rewards. So, we send someone down there to do the dirty work for us and cut ourselves a nice quiet slice, ok?” Sonny proudly propped himself up, pointing his finger across the room at Giorgio Forelli, who possessed the most knowledge of Vice City out of the men in the room, “Who’s our contact down there?”

 

“Ken Rosenberg, schmuck of a lawyer... how’s he gonna hold Vercetti’s leash?” Giorgio scratched his head.

 

“We don’t need him to.” Sonny was quick to execute any doubts Franco & Giorgio had about his plan, “We just give him a little cash to get started, okay? Give it a few months. Then we go down. See how he’s doin’..”

 

The two men nodded in agreeance. Both had their doubts, but toasted their cups in Sonny’s direction to pledge loyalty to the family in whichever course he would lead them. The three men eventually split, with Sonny being escorted back to his mansion in Shoreside Vale, and Giorgio silently skulking off. Franco headed out to the bar, where he approached his associate, Dino, who was drinking alone, having parted company with the sister-act hit squad.

 

“Head over to the guest house a couple of blocks from here. Pay Tommy Vercetti a visit. Rough him up. Tell him I want his ass over at my casino tomorrow.” Franco wasted no time, walking away as soon as he had arrived, leaving Dino no time to question his orders.

 

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

 

Chapter Four coming up. I don't mean to write out just what happened in Vice City, I just intend to give a little more background on what the situation could of been, tieing things in and such.

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Unoriginal44 : Good chapter and good length.

 

Watch out for some errors that you repeated at some place.

 

Vice ,2010.

It should be Vice, 2010. You have some spell errors too. Words like "Mabye" or "Alrght". For that, I'm giving you 36$

 

 

Tyla : Good length, good chapter, I liked it another time. Hope to see chapter 4 real soon. "TIRES" should have been spelled "Tires".

 

For that, I'm giving you 44$

 

 

Landstalker : You're story will be rated as soon as possible.

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Ladies and gentlement, mrpain has been added to the staff of BUYG Vice Edition.

Now with the ratings:

 

Landstalker: Good length for a prologue but I had a problem with ALOT of grammar problems. The Bold words are the grammar mistakes.

 

 

The Korean looking man, was waiting on the ship deck facing the hot and beatiful sun, tipical, of Flordia, Vice City. He was having black hair, red eyes, he had not a lot of muscles, the same for his fatness and was white or yellow. In fact, no one could say by the time. All of that because; he was hidding himself the best he could. No one knew his name, his age or either where he came from, even, if he was looking a little bit Korean. The man was strange, even weird some persons exagerated, calm, gentle, helpful, not talkative and was on his guard every time, every where and even while doing something relaxing. The Korean was at the same spot every day or in his chamber. That Korean was me.

 

I was about to get some sleep when I saw Vice City dock. I was about to return to my chamber to get my things when the cruise ship, Ex-Bower, stopped for no reason. Every one was suspicious. We heard some shoots and cry from the place where the captain was boating the ship. I approached the location and saw four guys with M4 exiting the murder place. I hidded the best I could against the wall. More of them arrived by Predator, Reefer and Maverick. All of them were armed of M4 too. In total, they were twenty with the four others who were already aboard. I runned toward the stairs and got downstairs to my room.

 

When I reached my room, I entered it, took my things and ran to the other side of the corridor. I took the right stairs. At the same time, five armed guys arrived in the corridor by the other set of stairs. Me, in all my state, with my adrenaline, sprinted to the front of the cruise ship and jumped out of the boat. Fortunately, I jumped bad and got on one of the Reefer the attackers used. When the engine started running, I boated the boat as fast as I could. Those guys still got able to get a shot or two on the boat. I reached the docks and...

 

I'm loving your last paragraph but the first two definitely needs some grammar improvement. My advise to you is to check everything first before you post. Also try to add some desricption instead of things like 'he did this' or 'he ran there'.

 

For this story, I'll be giving you $35. Try to improve next time icon14.gif

 

 

Rating done by

mrpain

My very first rating.

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Yup its official, I'm a staff.

I would like to buy brass knuckles and molotov cocktails please.

 

user posted image

Chapter 2: ROCK and ROLL!

 

Mitch drove off escorting the Love Fist limo without me. The president was always impatient. I ran towards my bike, trying to avoid the bullets flying around me, and followed Mitch without haste.

 

It was hard keeping up with him and the Love Fist limo, especially agaisnt Downtown traffic. Also, it was definitely not a good day to speed on the road with heavy rain flooding the roads. I struggled to keep my bike together when I almost hit a curb. A truck driver behind me was honking at me and bellowing out vulgarities at me. He backed off after he saw a stubby shotgun attached to my bike.

 

The moment I caught sight of Mitch was the beginning of a major f*cked up. Not long after I finally caught up with Mitch, a Haitian Voodoo was tailing us closely trying to ram us off the road. It was not a problem at first, not until they started firing an Uzi at us.

 

Mitch shouted fiercely, "Haitians, bunch of motherf*ckers! Drake spilt up, let the Haitians follow you."

 

I questioned his order, "What? Why do I want somebody who wants to kill me follow me?"

 

Mitch chuckled, "Because I'm your president. Duh!"

 

I turned at a junction and stopped my bike to take a shot at the Voodoo with my shotgun. I fired two shells at the car before the shotgun jammed. Unfortunately, a shotgun's range isn't very far but they did however noticed somebody shooting at them. And that somebody was me.

 

I hesitantly threw my shotgun away when they were driving fast towards me. I drove off but later lost control of my bike due to the slippery road. My bike slid across the road and I was flung ten feet away from my bike. The Haitians stopped their Voodoo and got out of their car to finish the job on me. I taunted them the middle finger and apparently, taunting a middle finger to the Haitians was like murder to them. And revenge for murder was not very satisfying. They took out a motherf*cking M4 from their Voodoo just to kill me.

 

I already fractured my left arm due to the crash and I was glad I had a Colt 45. tucked in my jeans. I ran into a nearby Pizza Shack to take cover. I fired two shots in the Pizza Shack to clear the area as I did not want any innocent people to die just by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The customers and the staff ran out in fear and the Haitians fired rounds into the place blindly. It killed two innocent people and I was definitely remorseful about it. And to add insult to injury, they shot my fractured left arm.

 

I pounced behind the counter and nervously loading my gun. I had never in my life been put into a situation like that. I said a prayer silently, took a deep breath to calm my nerves and got out of cover to shoot the Haitians after me. They fired back and I waited for them to run out of ammo. They kept spraying rounds of M4 into the Pizza Shack and gave me no opportunity to pop out of cover to shoot back. Pizzas and sodas were replaced by bullet holes and gun powder.

 

I scampered the entire place for something useful against the Haitians. I opened up a fridge and saw bottles of alcohol. I remembered what my father taught me of Molotov cocktails and I grabbed my lighter and those bottles to make some. I lit up a bottle and threw it at them. They were not afraid by it and continued firing at me. I threw a second on and it made the run like the cowards their.

 

I taunted them as they were running, “You pricks, come back here and fight like the bitch you are!” At that moment, I never knew Karma actually existed. The Haitians came back with reinforcements and surrounded the Pizza Shack. My face suddenly changed from tough and confident to wimpy and scared.

 

All I had was one good arm and a Colt 45. The Haitians had a f*ckload of firepower and plenty of backups trying to f*ck me up.

 

I literally had no way out.

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WelcomeToLibertyCity

I think I'll join with the Haitians at the Drug Factory. I'm not sure if I'll often have many stories up but I'll try.

 

Also, after awhile if this gets quite popular you should try the gang wars idea from back in the older BUYGs, where weekly gangs are pinned up against each other. It makes for interesting stories as well as a larger inspiration for people to write.

Edited by WelcomeToLibertyCity
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