Build Up Your San Andreas Gang

[Slingaa]

Seeing the continued interest in this topic and the fact that it is one of the most active ones in the somewhat dying SA forums, it's time to pin this topic. Thanks to Slingaa for bringing it to my attention.

 

Have fun, guys!

Thanks again mate. xD

[Build Up Your San Andreas Gang]

Swimming tadpoles. Miss Walls would tell us how

The daddy frog was called a bullfrog

And how he croaked and how the mammy frog

Laid hundreds of little eggs and this was

Frogspawn.

Edited August 18, 2010 by Build Up Your San Andreas Gang

[Tyla]

Nice job getting the pin Take that as a testament to getting this topic back up and running!

 

This is my themed chapter - a continuation of what I started in one of the other topics and a storyline that I would like to do again. Enjoy.

 

 

 

Guess Who Just Got Paroled...

 

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 strongest 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 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, and 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, and the figure behind his release from captivity today. Sonny had once called in favours, favours that had stopped Vercetti receiving the death penalty. He knew they wouldn’t keep him inside forever, though an official release date was never heard of. Sonny simply forgot about Tommy and carried on building the empire that dominated Liberty today.

 

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 its 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 beaten gravel laden 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.”

 

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 whom clogged the lanes as Liberty fell into the grip of rush hour morning traffic. It eventually pulled to a 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.

 

Two Forelli mobsters parked their car in an alleyway on the opposite side of the street, stepping out and anxiously looking around for anyone who would potentially witness them stuffing a corpse into the back of their vehicle. One scanned the crowd of people lining the street opposite; his face turned to stone when his gaze caught sight of Tommy Vercetti. Vercetti had little reservation about openly looking around, casually reminiscing about the times he had spent in the neighbourhood. Whether or not he had more balls than brains, or whether he actually was fearless, the Forelli ran off to debate with his accomplice. One thing for sure was that Tommy Vercetti being back on the streets wouldn’t be a secret for long.

 

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

 

I'd like to sell the Infernus that the Vercetti Gang have, and also sell the MP5, seen as this story makes me the leader.

[mrgypsie]

This is my prologue, the history of my charachter this is written in past tense. The rest of my stories will be written in present tense.

 

----------

 

 

-Chapter Zero-

-Prologue-

Moscow, Russia

November 1990

 

My name is Vasily Balakirev. I'm from Moscow, Russia. I lived in Moscow whole my life, until recently.

 

Things in Russia aren't great. The country is still in bad shape after all of the tyranny in our history. First all the tsars and then the communists. The only chance to get anywhere is in the mafia.

 

Back in 1990 I was in a quite bad period of my life. To put it briefly I was a junky. Drugs were my escape from the cold reality. At the time I was 21 years old. My parents were dead since way back. I'd lost contact with my brothers and sisters. I had no real friends, only junky ones. But if you're a junky you do not care about friendship, all you care about is getting drugs. Ready to screw anyone over to score a hit.

 

I lived in apartment complex occupied by junkies, prostitutes and other so called “scum”. The landlord had given up and just left the place. If I'd been forced to pay rent I'd been out on the streets by then. The only food I got was the food I stole, but I put more energy into stealing drugs of other junkies and valuables from tourists.

After buying a gram of heroin on “credit”, of a guy selling drugs for the mafia, I got in trouble. The Mafia sent a couple of “repo men” to collect my debt. They put a 9mm in my mouth as they searched my apartment. There wasn't much to search thru in my humble sh*t hole of an apartment. So I had to act quickly. These guys had done this to many times and weren't alert. An average junky wouldn't dare to fight them, if the junky even was in shape to lift a arm, that would be. When the guy holding the pistol looked away towards the two others and asked “How it was going” I hit the gun out of his hand. The following second lasted forever. He looked at me, mouth wide open and with a chocked look in his eyes, almost as he knew what was coming. I stabbed the man in the throat, with the pencil that I'd been squeezing in my hand all the time. The two others were making way to much noise in the kitchen to hear anything. I picked up the worn out 9mm from the dirty floor and checked if it was loaded. There was five bullets in the magazine. I slowly walked to the kitchen. I gazed upon them for a second or two as they teared out the empty kitchen drawers, then I put a bullet in both of their back heads. I still had my aim since my time in the military service. I put the gun in my waist, took my jacket and left my apartment.

 

As a junky in Moscow it's hard to stay low and still get your daily dose. The mafia caught up with me rather quickly. They brought me to Andrey Mihailov. He ran the Russian Mafia's drug distribution. Outside his office I was expecting nothing but playing the part as Mihailov's punchbag with a bullet to the head as a grande finale. But on the other side was Mihailov behind his desk, of course, with a chair in front of him. On the desk was a plate with mashed potatoes and some sort of stew. He asked me to sit down. I sat down with my eyes still attached to the hot food.

 

“Please, help yourself”, he said.

 

I started shuffling the food into my mouth. It was very awkward, everybody in the room was quite as they watched me eat. I swept over them with my eyes as I continued shuffling food into my mouth.

 

When I finished Mihailov started talking. He was impressed of me, according to him I'd taken down three of his finest men. I said that if that was his finest he could of sent all of them. He ignored my comment and kept talking. It'd felt like a stupid comment, I didn't want to make him angry. He wanted to make deal with me, in exchange for my loyalty he would spare my life. I would be in charge of one of the Mafias rackets. Since I didn't have a deathwish I accepted the proposition.

 

I took care of prostitutes, sort of a pimp. The prostitutes focused on the nicer parts of Moscow. I dropped them of at bars. They targeted tourists. When they got a customer they slipped something in his drink, when he started to get dizzy she took him out to his car or back to his hotel. If he didn't fall asleep at once she would start blowing him until he did. Then she'd bring me up and we would steal everything worth stealing.

 

But things got worse pretty quick the police started working against us even though we bribed them. Mihailov was put behind bars. We started moving business to America. Now I run a Gray imports for the Russian Mafia over here in Los Santos, San Andreas.

Edited August 17, 2010 by mrgypsie

[Slingaa]

Hey, I'd like to buy:

 

Brass Knuckles $5

Knife $7

Baseball Bat $10

Machete $20

Silenced 9mm $115

Desert Eagle $130

Chrome Shotgun $250

AK-47 $330

Molotovs $5

Detonative Grenades $60

BF-400 $600

Jester $600

 

Which brings me to $2312. You also haven't taken off my sold stuff mate. Thanks.

[Landstalker]

Alright! I'll add them when I'll be done with adding the Vice City missing weapons, vehicles and gangs. I didn't add them yesterday night because I felt asleep while doing so.

[UNRATED69]

 

 

Chapter 5: Jail Break

 

“I f*cked up” I thought to myself “I really f*cked up” I knew it happened, but I couldn't believe it. One of the gang members escaped, and he squealed to the cops. Now I'm sittin' here in a jail cell, waiting to be transferred to the state penitentiary. Oh well, it's can't be that bad. I hear the food in there's pretty good. Who am I kidding, I'll probably spend the rest of my life being some guy named Tina's bitch. I sat down on the bed and just thought about how my life was over, how there was no hope, and slowly drifted off to sleep.

 

I woke up a few hours later (or at least I thought it was only a few hours. I wouldn't know, for lack of a clock.) to a sound outside the small window. I pulled myself up and shuffled over to the window. It was high up on the wall, and couldn't have been more than a foot across, and even shorter than that height-wise. I stood up on the edge of the bed, and peered out the window. To my surprise, I saw Aleksandr and Dimitri standing in the empty lot behind the station where I was being kept. “Holy sh*t! What are you guys doing here?” I exclaimed in a low whisper. “We're here to bust you out” Dimitri said “Just stay close to the wall, we'll be in before long.” I didn't understand at first, but as Aleksandr got into the van they had apparently come in, and Dimitri stood off to the side, it hit me. I squeezed into the front corner of the cell as much as I could, and mere seconds later, I heard the screech of tires and the building sound of the engine roaring. I ducked down and covered my head as the large van, reinforced with a set of bull bars in the front, came crashing through the concrete wall that separated me from freedom.

 

After the thunderous sound of the wall crumbling faded, an alarm started ringing, and the lights went on in the cell block, as numerous armed guards came rushing to stop the escape. Aleksandr backed the van out of the newly created door, and Dimitri came rushing in. “Come on man! We gotta get the f*ck outta here!” he said as he handed me a pistol and ran out the hole. I started after him, stopping only for a few seconds to gun down a few of the guards. We ran to the van, which Aleksandr had pulled around and had waiting, rear doors open, and hopped in. Before we could close the doors, the van lurched forward and pulled out of the lot, and onto the road running away from the station.

 

“We got some company” said Aleksandr, as he weaved through trough traffic. I looked out the back window, and saw 3 cop cars chasing us. Officers in the passenger seats hung out the window, shooting at the van, and took out the window in the process. “Sh*t! You gotta get rid of them!” Dimitri said as he handed me an AK-47. I kicked the back door open, and started spraying the cop cars with bullets. The cars swerved, and one of the cops hanging out the window fell out, and rolled into the distance. The cops returned fire, the driver taking one hand off the wheel to assist, and I ducked back in to avoid the hail of bullets. When the shooting ceased, I continued my barrage on the cars, which couldn't take anymore damage, and started smoking and flaring up. The cops pulled off to the side to avoid an explosion, and we escaped back to the V-Rock.

 

As Aleksandr pulled into the underground lot, Dimitri and I hopped out, and started for the elevator. “That was some damn fine shooting” he said. “I do what I can” I said nonchalantly. When we reached our floor, we went our separate ways. “до свидания(good-bye)” I said, and he returned the phrase. I walked back to my room, but was stopped at the door by one of the guards I recognized from the boss's penthouse. “The boss wants you to have this” he said as he handed me a key card, then walked away. I looked at it, and got extremely excited at what I saw. It was a room key for a room on the 14th floor, two floors above where I was now. All I could do was smile. In this hotel, the higher floor you were on, the more you were respected, and the 14th floor was the highest floor, right below the penthouse. I walked back to the elevator, pressed the circular '14' button, and rode the elevator up, both literally and metaphorically.

 

 

_______________

 

I'm going to buy the Python and the Satchels.

[Build Up Your San Andreas Gang]

All year the flax-dam festered in the heart

Of the townland; green and heavy headed

Flax had rotted there, weighted down by huge sods.

Edited August 18, 2010 by Build Up Your San Andreas Gang

[Osric]

I'd like to buy a knife for the Civilians. Expect a story soon.

[Build Up Your San Andreas Gang]

I see a little silhouetto of a man.

Edited August 18, 2010 by Build Up Your San Andreas Gang

[mrpain]

I'm so happy that this got pinned. You guys are doing a great job so far.

 

I might consider a return though into the Leone Family.

[Tyla]

I would like to purchase an Uzi for $180, a Colt Python for $120 and a Stinger for $350 for the Vercetti Gang. Thank you.

 

 

 

Simple Solution

 

Sonny Forelli dipped his bare feet into the pool, the lukewarm temperature surrounding his soles as he sat on the edge of a sun lounger; he anxiously looked around. His residence was that of a mansion, located in the lush Shoreside Vale neighbourhood of Cedar Grove. The spoils of his hard work over the past fifteen years were clear to see; a Stinger sports car in the garage, champagne in his glass and models relaxing at poolside. He exchanged grins with them before getting up from the lounger and going off into the house.

 

He cupped his hands an Uzi as he wondered into the basement. Forelli was a superstitious man who secretly feared that what goes around comes around, and when his time came he wanted to be ready for it. He put the Uzi down and replaced it with a Colt Python; placing six bullets in the chamber and spinning it with his fingers.

 

He may have reduced Tommy Vercetti to nothing but an ex-con with a chip on his shoulder, but he knew full well what the man was capable of. He had gotten too dangerous at the start of the seventies, too hungry; bodies were piling up in the midst of a mob war and Tommy wanted to move up in the hierarchy, as Sonny was doing himself, but the old men were having none of it and Sonny was told to get rid.

 

Sonny had set Vercetti on each of the rival families, having him muscle in on their business and perform mob killings that weren’t authorised by the collective ruling panel. This resulted in much anger towards Vercetti; Sonny allowed him to be used as a lightning rod and simply took what the families had without anyone getting wise. Eventually it became apparent that Sonny was moving up; he saw it to be the perfect time to get rid of Tommy and make a name for himself in the process. He ordered a hit on his main rival, Bruno, and ordered Tommy to murder him. Unknown to Vercetti, Sonny was setting him up for a fall. He had sent ten bodyguards to accompany Bruno wherever he went, ten men who knew he would be coming.

 

As he placed the Revolver into his waistband, Sonny recalled the sit-down he and his cousins, Franco and Giorgio, had at Marco’s Bistro a few hours previous. He had instructed Franco to take care of Vercetti, and hoped that what he had presented would appease Tommy and keep him far; far away from anything he could do to Sonny or his business.

 

“So... what are we ‘gonna do, Sonny?” was the question that left Franco Forelli’s lips, the man who broke the news of Vercetti’s freedom to the family, as the Forelli’s were gathered around a large table in the back room of the Bistro. Sonny’s answer was simple; the family would treat Vercetti like a loyal soldier and send him to Vice City in Florida, well away from their operations up north. He would have Tommy establish a drug cartel on behalf of the Forelli Family of which they could profit from without the Liberty City Mafia knowing, and eventually have him murdered and pass the operation off to somebody else. This would quell the hunger of a man such as Vercetti, Sonny thought, and would also suffice as a reward for his continued loyalty.

 

Sonny had watched as Franco called for one of his men to pay Tommy a visit at the guest house in Saint Marks. He wanted for Vercetti to know his place if he still wanted to work for the Forelli Family, and instructed his man to be heavy with him.

 

Sure enough, an hour later, the young Forelli associate, Dino, pulled the straps of his black leather jacket tighter around his neck as he stood outside the place Tommy was residing at. Lit embers from his cigarette danced away in the passing breeze as he looked up at Vercetti’s window, overlooking the bustling street in Saint Marks behind him. Dino was aware that he was viewed by the Forelli’s as a young kid on the up; making an example of a man with Vercetti’s reputation would surely reaffirm his credentials for promotion. He walked inside, meeting gazes with the man on the desk.

 

“I’d like to know which room Tommy Vercetti is in.” Dino asked as politely as possible.

 

“I’d like to see Love Fist, but sh*t ain’t gonna happen.”

 

Dino threw his hands onto the clerk’s collar and pulled him half way across the desk, allowing his gaze to pierce up close and personal. “Which room?” he shouted.

 

“Three.” the clerk winced; he gasped as he was thrown back into a metal cabinet, forming a slump on the floor.

 

Dino made his way up the stairs away from the desk, searching for room number three at the top of the flight of steps. It was a battered brown wooden door with the number three half hanging off. This is what Tommy Vercetti had been reduced to, he thought. This is going to be easy.

 

Tommy cautiously stepped to the door after hearing eager knocking. He stroked his day old stubble and opened up, seeing the young man standing at the door.

 

“Tommy Vercetti?”

 

Tommy nodded, looking Dino up and down.

 

Dino smiled, annoying Vercetti. He grinned again, like a shark, and moved forward. “Franco Forelli...” he bought his hands forward in the slightest motion; Vercetti slammed the door towards them, catching Dino’s right hand between the frame with precision, cutting Dino off before he could finish his sentence, words turning to screams of pain.

 

“Franco Forelli what?!” Tommy’s stone-like face rippled as he barked at Dino, his voice echoing with menace. When he heard no reply but a wince, he slammed the door on the hand again. His heavy seat brow cast an intimidating frown.

 

“Franco...” he cried, “wants to meet you at the casino in Torrington!”

 

“When, prick?”

 

“Today!”

 

Tommy freed Dino’s now crushed hand from the vice, watching him grab hold of it in an instant and nurse his mangled fingers. He stepped forth from the door and pushed him backwards, watching him take a tumble down the first step and collapse against the solid wall.

 

“Tell Franco I’ll be there, but I don’t appreciate him sending a moron like you to rough me up.” he announced, asserting his dominance over Dino, standing over him, staring at him with fearsome eyes. “Don’t come near me again.” He looked at the younger man for a moment longer, and then walked back into his room, leaving Dino to get back on his feet and take the news of his reservation to Franco Forelli at his casino in Torrington.

[Landstalker]

Who the f*ck changed BUYSAG password?!

[mrpain]

f*ck I tried accessing the account too but yeah someone changed the password indeed.

 

I suspect Slingaa though and he better have a good explaination for it.

 

Landstalker, you have the email details of the account dont you?

[Landstalker]

Yeah. I know something would something like this would happen...

 

Anyway. I'll try to acesss the account.

[Tyla]

Message a mod or an admin and ask them to change the email/password if someone has tried to jack the account and you can't get into it. They may be able to sort it for you.

[Landstalker]

The Email adress was changed too...

 

That's what I'll do right now.

[mrpain]

f*ck! THE FIRST PAGE IS RUINED!

 

 

 

Strange though, I saw the BUYSAG account online and looking at this topic not too long ago.

[Landstalker]

f*ck! THE FIRST PAGE IS RUINED!

 

 

 

Strange though, I saw the BUYSAG account online and looking at this topic not too long ago.

Me too!

[mrpain]

I just noticed something. Before the password was changed, at the bottom of the first post read WTLC is god.

 

WTLC= Welcome To LIberty City. It has to be him!

[Slingaa]

Jesus Christ, who deleted the first post?

[Tyla]

 

I just noticed something. Before the password was changed, at the bottom of the first post read WTLC is god.

 

WTLC= Welcome To LIberty City. It has to be him!

No way, WTLC is a good guy. He's always maintained BUYG: SA since god knows when, he wouldn't sabotage this version. Only Landstalker knows who's had the password, and it's up to him to dole it out sparingly after this is all sorted.

[mrpain]

 

Jesus Christ, who deleted the first post?

Well I suspected it would be you but you are already such a writer here for you to destroy this game.

 

Only me, Landstalker, Slingaa, WTLC and Kaizer Chief knows the password

[Slingaa]

Jesus Christ, who deleted the first post?

Well I suspected it would be you but you are already such a writer here for you to destroy this game.

 

Only me, Landstalker, Slingaa, WTLC and Kaizer Chief knows the password

I swear on my f*cking family it wasn't me. I wouldn't do it, I was doing really well. Plus, I've been playing on the Sims for about an hour. I doubt it's Welcome to Liberty City, as he's a good guy. It might be Kaizer Chief, as I replaced him in the BUYGSA Corp.

[Tyla]

What about staff from previous versions? It's the same account, I think? Whats to say someone didn't just throw the name Welcome To Liberty City into the mix to throw the scent off themselves? It's impossible to tell.

[mrpain]

Cant be Kaizer Chief, he's such a good guy.

 

Vercetti27, cant be him too. A fantastic writer.

 

I remembered there was one other guy in the first version. A guy called jkmd or something. He knew the password but we remove him from the staff list.

[Slingaa]

I remembered there was one other guy in the first version. A guy called jkmd or something. He knew the password but we remove him from the staff list.

If you haven't changed the password since, it's probably him.

 

Did anyone have a backup saved?

[mrpain]

I remembered there was one other guy in the first version. A guy called jkmd or something. He knew the password but we remove him from the staff list.

If you haven't changed the password since, it's probably him.

 

Did anyone have a backup saved?

Sadly, Landstalker only have old files of the main post.

 

I feel kinda torn apart though as I'm kinda like the co-manager of this game. I can imagine how Landstalker feel right now with all his hard work being thrown away just like that.

[Landstalker]

Nevermind... I was wrong.

 

Like mrpain said. I only have some old beta files of the Vice City gangs.

 

EDIT: I don't know who edited back the main post but thanks Still, we don't have any password to log in back. I sent a PM to girishb about this.

Edited August 18, 2010 by Landstalker

[mrpain]

Although it's still unfinished, the main post is at least done.

 

PM the password and I will sort things out. Also, to Landstalker, change the password first.