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Build Up Your San Andreas Gang

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General Scrotum


Welcome to Build Up Your San Andreas Gang


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Welcome to Build Up Your Gang: San Andreas Edition, the famous BUYG game created solely for the gangs of San Andreas state. 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 the drug market, to have the best henchmen in San Andreas, where every stinking penny counts?


Have fun and enjoy the game!

Secronom President (SP) and the BUYSAG Staff



These kind-hearted fans will contribute to the running of the game. They will rate stories and offer comments. The BUYSAG staff consists of:

Secronom President (SP) - Forelli_Boy - Omini - mrpain



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 program that 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: if you flame anyone, your character and stories go up in flames with you, and you receive permanent banning from the game as well. Also, no non-BUYSAG-related talk; however, you can discuss ideas, threads and plans for future BUYSAG stories.5. No double posting; if you have something else to say, re-edit your post.Guidelines1. Each gang starts out with $1,000, a few weapons and a minimum of one vehicle.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 receive half the price you purchased it for.3. Any BUYSAG staff may choose to randomly confiscate items, weapons, vehicles and rackets and businesses. Take note that your gang will only receive confiscations if you have begun buying drugs. Confiscations will be dealt every Sunday, along with asset cash distribution.4. The BUYSAG 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.5. 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.6. If you wish to expand your gang's property, you must purchase new properties. Simply declare a location within San Andreas for your gang to have. 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 $600.7. If you want to switch gang, you can bring one of your previous gang items with you. Note that your previous gang will still own a copy of the item. In other words, your new gang and your previous one will both have the item.8. No matter you writing skills, you can join up to a maximum of two gangs. There are no exceptions, even if you are a staff member.9. You must show respect to the gang leader and to the higher-ups of the gang.



Story Count Bonuses
Story Count Prize(s)
Multiple of five For every fifth story you post, you receive $100.
1st story for your gang You're the gang leader
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
25th story Free boat under $1,100
30th story Free drug under $580
35th story Free property
40th story Free flight vehicle under $4,500
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Grove Street Families


LocationPropertyGang MemberStory Count
Los Santos
The Johnson House
Los Santos
Sweet's House
San Fierro
Wang Cars
Baseball Bat, 9mm
Greenwood, Voodoo
Rackets and Businesses






LocationPropertyGang MemberStory Count
Los Santos
The Pig Pen
Los Santos
Glen Park
Los Santos
Idlewood Crack House
9mm, Baseball Bat, Tec-9
Tahoma, Majestic
Rackets and Businesses



Varrios Los Aztecas


LocationPropertyGang MemberStory Count
Los Santos
Cesar's House
Secronom President
0 (17)
Los Santos
El Corona Low Rider Meet
NRG-500, Savanna
Rackets and Businesses



Los Santos Vagos


LocationPropertyGang MemberStory Count
Los Santos
East Los Santos Gang House
Los Santos
Colonel Fuhrberger's House
Los Santos
Fredy's House
9mm, Baseball Bat, Tec-9
Tornado, Oceanic
Rackets and Businesses




Russian Mafia


LocationPropertyGang MemberStory Count
Los Santos
The Atrium
Los Santos
Grey Imports
Las Venturas
V-Rock Hotel
SMG, AK-47, Silenced 9mm, Sniper Rifle, Stache Charges
PCJ-600, Sentinel
Rackets and Businesses



San Fierro Rifa


LocationPropertyGang MemberStory Count
San Fierro
Doherty Crack Lab
San Fierro
Pleasure Domes
SMG, AK-47, Sniper Rifle, Grenades, Satchel Charges
Blade, ZR-350
Rackets and Businesses



San Fierro Triads


LocationPropertyGang MemberStory Count
San Fierro
Wu Zi Mu's Office
San Fierro
Ran Fa Li's Lockup
Las Venturas
Four Dragons Casino
Katana, AK-47
Stratum, Elegy
Rackets and Businesses



Da Nang Boys


LocationPropertyGang MemberStory Count
San Fierro
Pier 69
San Fierro
Bay Cargo Ship
San Fierro
Easter Basin Docks
9mm, Baseball Bat
Buccaneer, Manana
Rackets and Businesses



Leone Mafia Family


LocationPropertyGang MemberStory Count
Las Venturas
Caligula's Casino
Las Venturas
Redsands West Safehouse
Desert Eagle, Molotovs, Tear Gass, Satchel Charges, Baseball Bat, Knife, AK-47, SMG, Shotgun
BF-400, Cheetah
Rackets and Businesses



Forelli Brothers


LocationPropertyGang MemberStory Count
Las Venturas
The Visage
Las Venturas
Pirates in Men's Pants
Las Venturas
Prickle Pine Safehouse
Baseball Bat, Desert Eagle, 9mm, Tec-9, Shotgun
Admiral, Elegant
Rackets and Businesses



Sindacco Family


LocationPropertyGang MemberStory Count
Las Venturas
Sindacco Abattoir
Las Venturas
The High Roller
Las Venturas
Counterfeit Chips Factory
Knife, Desert Eagle, AK-47, Molotovs
PCJ-600, Intruder
Rackets and Businesses
SPANK (Ounce), SPANK (Ounce)



Loco Syndicate


LocationPropertyGang MemberStory Count
Los Santos
Big Smoke's Crack Palace
San Fierro
Import/Export Ship
0 (2)
Knife, Baseball Bat, Silenced 9mm, Desert Eagle, Micro SMG, SMG, Combat Shtogun, M4, Sniper Rifle, Molotovs, Tear Gas, Grenades, Satchel Charges
Maverick, Broadway, NRG-500, Infernus, Pony, Huntley
Rackets and Businesses
Meth Lab, Docking Depot
Scientist (10), Sailor (10)



Executive Operations


LocationPropertyGang MemberStory Count
Los Santos
Verdant Bluffs Safehouse
San Fierro
Paradiso Safehouse
Las Venturas
Rockshore West Safehouse
Secronom President
2 (21)
M4, SMG, Grenades
Mesa, Sentinel, NRG-500
Rackets and Businesses



Fear Inc.


LocationPropertyGang MemberStory Count
Los Santos
Alhambra Club
Barb Wire Bat, Molotovs
Alpha Maverick
Rackets and Businesses



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Melee Cost
Brass Knuckles $6
Knife $8
Baseball Bat $10
Golf Club $15
Night Stick $15
Barb Wire Bat $20
Tire Iron $20
Katana $45
Chainsaw $75
Riot Shield $100
Handguns Cost
9mm $95
Silenced 9mm $115
Desert Eagle $130
Submachine Guns Cost
Tec-9 $140
Micro SMG $145
MP5 $250
Shotguns Cost
Mossberg 500 $250
Sawn-Off Shotgun $290
SPAS-12 $400
Benelli M4 $500
Machine Guns Cost
AK-47 $300
M4 $400
AR-15 $500
Sniper Rifles Cost
Mosin Nagant $300
SG-550 $400
Barrett 82 $500
Throwables Cost
Brick $5
Molotovs $5
Gas Grenades $40
Grenades $60
C4 $75
Heavy Firepower Cost
RPD $600
FN Minimi $800
Flamethrower $850
Rocket Launcher $1,100
Minigun $1,500
Heat-Seeking Rocket Launcher $1,800



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Bikes Availability Cost
BF-400 3 $600
Bike 3 $35
BMX 3 $45
Faggio 3 $250
FCR-900 3 $700
Freeway 3 $500
Mountain Bike 3 $50
NRG-500 3 $775
PCJ-600 3 $600
Pizzaboy 3 $300
Quad 3 $450
Sanchez 3 $450
Wayfarer 3 $400



Convertibles Availability Cost
Comet 3 $750
Feltzer 3 $450
Stallion 3 $450
Windsor 3 $430
Lowriders Availability Cost
Blade 3 $450
Broadway 3 $350
Remington 3 $400
Savanna 3 $450
Slamvan 3 $575
Tahoma 3 $350
Tornado 3 $425
Voodoo 3 $275
Helicopters Availability Cost
Cargobob 3 $1400
Hunter 3 $75,000
Leviathan 3 $1300
Maverick 3 $200
Police Maverick 3 $450
Raindance 3 $1,360
Seasparrow 3 $6,400
Sparrow 3 $5,500
Off Road Availability Cost
Bandito 3 $500
BF Injection 3 $450
Dune 3 $435
Huntley 3 $450
Landstalker 3 $450
Mesa 3 $500
Monster 3 $655
Patriot 3 $650
Rancher 3 $450
Sandking 3 $800
Planes Availability Cost
AT-400 3 $15,000
Beagle 3 $14,500
Cropduster 3 $10,000
Dodo 3 $10,500
Hydra 3 $1,000,000
Nevada 3 $12,750
Rustler 3 $1,900
Shamal 3 $10,500
Skimmer 3 $5,000
Stuntplane 3 $3,000
Boats Availability Cost
Coastguard 3 $900
Dinghy 3 $500
Jetmax 3 $1,500
Launch 3 $1,500
Marquis 3 $1,500
Predator 3 $1,000
Reefer 3 $1,000
Speeder 3 $2,500
Squallo 3 $1,200
Tropic 3 $1,100
Public Services Availability Cost
Ambulance 3 $500
Barrack OL 3 $1,400
Bus 3 $1,000
Cabbie 3 $500
Coach 3 $1,100
Enforcer 3 $1,500
FBI Rancher 3 $900
FBI Truck 3 $1,200
Firetruck 3 $1,000
HPV1000 3 $766
Police Car (LSPD) 3 $900
Police Car (SFPD) 3 $900
Police Car (LVPD) 3 $945
Ranger 3 $450
Rhino 3 $3,000
S.W.A.T. 3 $2,500
Taxi 3 $450
Sports/Supers Availability Cost
Alpha 3 $350
Banshee 3 $800
Blista Compact 3 $600
Buffalo 3 $500
Bullet 3 $800
Cheetah 3 $850
Club 3 $450
Euros 3 $450
Flash 3 $600
Hotring Racer 3 $355
Infernus 3 $1,200
Jester 3 $600
Sabre 3 $600
Super GT 3 $800
Turismo 3 $750
Uranus 3 $550
ZR-350 3 $750
Industrial Availability Cost
Benson 3 $700
Bobcat 3 $500
Burrito 3 $550
Boxville 3 $650
Cement Truck 3 $371
DFT-30 3 $370
Flatbed 3 $700
Linerunner 3 $700
Mule 3 $500
Newsvan 3 $255
Packer 3 $950
Picador 3 $350
Pony 3 $300
Roadtrain 3 $345
Rumpo 3 $250
Sadler 3 $290
Tanker 3 $380
Tractor 3 $110
Trashmaster 3 $750
Utility Van 3 $230
Walton 3 $300
Yankee 3 $450
Yosemite 3 $300
Unique Availability Cost
Baggage 3 $200
Brownstreak 3 $5,000
Caddy 3 $250
Camper 3 $220
Combine Harvester 3 $2,000
Dozer 3 $270
Dumper 3 $230
Forklift 3 $140
Freight 3 $5000
Hotknife 3 $360
Hotdog 3 $288
Hustler 3 $322
Kart 3 $310
Mower 3 $110
Mr. Whoopee 3 $700
Romero 3 $210
Securicar 3 $500
Stretch 3 $1,250
Sweeper 3 $180
Towtruck 3 $230
Tug 3 $150
Vortex 3 $390
Saloons Availability Cost
Admiral 3 $300
Bloodring Banger 3 $750
Bravura 3 $350
Buccaneer 3 $300
Cadrona 3 $500
Clover 3 $150
Elegant 3 $450
Elegy 3 $500
Emperor 3 $550
Esperanto 3 $150
Fortune 3 $500
Glendale 3 $300
Greenwood 3 $200
Hermes 3 $275
Intruder 3 $210
Majestic 3 $250
Manana 3 $175
Merit 3 $350
Nebula 3 $250
Oceanic 3 $500
Phoenix 3 $650
Premier 3 $400
Previon 3 $400
Primo 3 $180
Sentinel 3 $450
Stafford 3 $300
Sultan 3 $600
Sunrise 3 $550
Tampa 3 $400
Vincent 3 $350
Virgo 3 $350
Willard 3 $350
Washington 3 $500
Station Wagons Availability Cost
Moonbeam 3 $350
Perennial 3 $350
Regina 3 $178
Solaire 3 $240
Stratum 3 $260
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 receive as the buildings themselves generate no income. Each Racket/Business costs an initial fixed price. Upon purchasing a Racket/Business, you gain ten free Assets. Once you purchase a building and assets, they will be displayed in your gang's box.


All additional Assets cost one quarter of their racket or business's initial price. So if you purchased a weed farm, it'd cost you $1,200, and you'd get 10 assets along with the purchase. This means that each week you'd earn $350. If you pay this $350 for an additional asset, then the next week you'll earn $385, and so on. Only three rackets or businesses can be owned by a gang at one time.



Racket Cost Asset Cost Income per Asset
Weed Farm
Crack Den
Protection Ring
Chop Shop
Cocaine Ring
Fraud Scheme
Theft Ring
Burglary Circuit
Meth Lab


Business Cost Asset Cost Income per Asset
Garbage Route
Garbage Collector
Docking Depot
Taxi Service
Taxi Driver
Construction Firm
Strip Club
Car Dealership
Car Salesman



Drug Rules and Regulations
1. Once your gang purchases drugs, the only problems are with the authorities of San Andreas (i.e., the BUYSAG 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 showing you selling the drugs.
3. BUYSAG Staff will act as San Andreas 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 have stayed out of the drug game, playa.
4. Money from the Wholesale amount will immediately be added to your gangs money status.
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 are limited to 3 drug purchases a week.



Amount of Product
Wholesale Amount
Love Juice
1 Litre (0.26 Gallons)
Love Juice
2 Litres (0.52 Gallons)
Love Juice
1 Gallon (4 Litres)
1 Litre (0.26 Gallons)
2 Litres (0.52 Gallons)
1 Gallon (4 Litres)
3.5 Grams
Ounce (28 Grams)
Pound (16 Ounces or 448 Grams)
Kilo (2.2 Pounds or 998 Grams)
1 gram
Teener (1.5 grams)
Ball (3.5 grams)
Ounce (28 Grams)
Pound (16 ounces)
1 Pill
100 Pills
1000 Pills
10,000 Pills
Crack Cocaine
1 Gram
Crack Cocaine
Ounce (26 Grams)
Crack Cocaine
Pound (16 Ounces or 448 Grams)
1 Gram
Ounce (28 Grams)
Pound (16 Ounces or 448 Grams)
Crystal Meth
1 Gram
Crystal Meth
Ball (3.5 Grams)
Crystal Meth
Half-Ounce (14 Grams)
Crystal Meth
Ounce (28 Grams)
Crystal Meth
Pound (16 Ounces or 448 Grams)
Crystal Meth
Kilo (2.2 Pounds or 998 Grams


Other solid ways to make money...



Theme of the Week
Every Sunday, a staff member will post a new THEME for the week. The theme will usually be a common gang activity, such as "breaking out of jail" or "heavy shootout". Each theme will be accompanied by a few rules, and during the week, all writers can post stories related to the theme, and earn a small bonus. The amount of the bonus will be dictated by how good your theme story/stories are. Some themes will require a single story, while others might require more than one. For the current theme of the week, look at the top of this post.
Gang Wars
Reward: $500

Gang Wars in BUYG are not only a way to add excitement and realism to your story, but are an interesting way to make money. Set over the course of three stories, gang wars can be face-offs between writers, and the best will win.


• To declare war on another gang, one player must challenge another from a different gang. If they accept, the Gang War begins.

• Both gangs must post three stories, detailing the beginning, middle and end of the Gang War.

• Any possessions destroyed by the winning gang will be removed from the losing gang's inventory.

•The victor will be decided by a BUYG Judge who will read and rate all six stories before coming to an decision.

Bounty Hunts
Every once in a while, BUYSAG staff members will post a bounty. The staff member will specify a target’s name, and the conditions and locations where he can be found. The staff member will specify the amount of chapters that writers need to write in order to complete the bounty. The first writer to write that amount of chapters, describing the bounty hunt and conforming to the provided details, will win the bounty. Bounties will vary in reward; it is logical that larger bounties will require more chapters and might even involve multiple targets.
Also, to diversify things a bit...



Create Gangs
In this version of the game, you have the possibility to create new gangs that you must join in when you created them, which means that you must say "Adios" to your previous gang for 10 chapters. It'll cost $500, which will be taken from the new created gang's account. That means that the new gang will start with $500. The zones that they'll have will be your decision but weapons and cars must be approved by the staff. You can only create a new gang and join it if you have written 10 chapters for your old one or if you have a total of ten chapters with your bracketed chapters number.
[/tableb]Have fun!
Edited by Secronom President
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(Adding my first two posts just to have them on record here)




The Russian Mafia : V-Rock Hotel

Prologue: The New Underboss


Who would have thought a low life like me would be sitting with Kenny Petrovic… I certainly have come up in the world. Talking about having me go expand the mafia’s control in Las Venturas. He wants to get control in another city when he is still becoming a full fledged force in Liberty City… But who am I to question his orders?


My name? Jerkov… Only 20 and already I’ve earned Mister Petrovic’s trust to run things on my own… Well, not exactly on my own. He’s sending two others along with me to help get things set up. A drug dealer called Ziggy Pole. He’s good at weeding out the poor quality drugs, but even better at flogging the stuff on the black market. Then there’s Chesti-Kov, a guy who already has experiences in extortion and racketeering.


The meeting’s over. We have just 6 hours to pack our bags and say our goodbyes. Not that I have anyone to say goodbye to, mind you. We’ve to board a plane at the Francis International Airport down in southern Shoreside Vale. That’s quite a drive.


What a flight. Turbulence is such a pain. I can’t believe DMAir Rockstar lost my bags. Oh well, not like I needed those three pairs of dirty underwear anyway. Well at least our pick up is on time. Three sentinels? We’re being spoilt already with a car and 2 bodyguards each. We start making our way to our new base of operations, the V-Rock Hotel.


On arrival, security is non-existent, and the place is a shambles. This crime organisation is going to take quite a while to get up and running… I doubt Mister Petrovic really knew how bad things actually were here.






The Russian Mafia : V-Rock Hotel

I: Pharmaceutical Headache


We’ve been here for three hours and already we’re in another meeting. Two meetings in two days, I can’t wait for the meeting to end all meetings. I don’t see why we had to rush a meeting just to discuss how we’re going to get this place in to some kind of proper shape.


Propositions for what we should dive in to first keep arising. Ziggy insists on jumping in to the drug ring. Though one of the lieutenants who was here when I arrived, Uncle Vanka, suggests we get the casino at the V-Rock up and running. I’m all for that idea. After all, it’s best to look legit first then get up to no good, than it is the other way around.


We’ve only been talking for twenty minutes, when an unknown face to me enters the room. Instantly, I’m reminded that my instincts will always be there, as I realised I have already drawn my silenced 9mm and have it aimed right for his head.


“Calm down, Jerkov.” Uncle Vanka gives me a peculiar but understanding look, “He’s one of my boys. Mishka, this is Jerkov, our new local boss. Jerkov, this is Mishka, he does jobs for me – and of course for you, when you want him to.”


Mishka gives me a fairly nervous smile, and a slight bow. Understanding, considering I still have my gun pointing in his general direction. I put it back in to where I got it from, and as soon as I do Mishka appears a lot more relaxed.


“Uncle, I got what you wanted. Where should I put them?” Mishka asks, now fully back in to his normal posture.


Uncle Vanka’s eyes widen a bit, and with a grin on his face looks at Mishka, then to me, and then back to Mishka, “Really?... That was faster than I had anticipated. Bring some, shall we say, samples in to let Jerkov check them.”


With this, Mishka bowed at Uncle Vanka, then to me, and then proceeded out the door from where he came. I gave Uncle Vanka a confused look, to which he just grinned and let slip a little slightly psychotic laughter.


A few minutes later, Mishka, accompanied by two others, came back through the door with a weapon crate on a trolley each. Mishka motioned for the other two to put the crates down in front of me, which they did. One by one, Mishka opened them. I was quite amazed. AK-47s, sniper rifles and satchel charges were contained within the crates.


I paused for a brief moment, “How many of these do we have?” I asked, while handling one of the AKs.


“Here at the hotel, two truck loads. A whole lot more have been put in to one of our top security lock ups.” Mishka replied, now standing at attention, “As for ammunition – we have enough to make an army stock pile look like a local gun store.”


Ah, music to my ears. Just then, one of our sentries burst through the door, panting heavily, “Sirs! Zaibatsu hit squads are heading this way! They’ll be here in ten minutes!”


Zaibatsu? I didn’t know they had any form of presence in San Andreas, never mind Las Venturas.


“They must have heard about our weapon acquisition.” Uncle Vanka said, as he picked up the second AK-47 from the weapon case, “Mishka, how many crates do we have inside?”


Mishka, taken back a little by the thought of a gun fight, regained his composure, “About a quarter of a truck load.”


“Start handing out the weapons to our men. We’ll meet the Zaibatsu scum head on.”


Mishka promptly headed out the door, with Uncle Vanka quickly behind him. Suppose we’ll get to test out our new toys sooner than I had anticipated. I proceeded out the door and headed for the front.


In the lobby, some of the men didn’t seem quite sure what to do. I grabbed a sniper rifle and threw it to Chesti-Kov and told him to head for the roof. Then I told the already armed men to follow me out the front door.


Blockades set up with some of our sentinels. The older models, of course, I wouldn’t want a bullet hole paint job on the new ones. We waited…


The streets were very quiet, especially for the early night in a city such as Las Venturas. All that changed quite suddenly, though. Engines were roaring through the streets, and getting increasingly louder by the second. That was our cue to get ready.


The first car came flying towards us from the west side, and just as quickly as it appeared, a bullet went straight between the drivers eyes. I looked up on to the hotel’s roof, and there was Chesti-Kov, reloading his single-shot sniper rifle. The car continued its speedy path until it smashed in to one of the smaller buildings and exploded.


Within seconds, Zaibatsu were in our parking lot, and an ever fierce gun fight quickly ensued. However they were clearly out gunned, they were packing 9mm and SMGs, and we were packing sniper rifles and AK-47s.


They were quickly dispatched. Chesti-Kov was a much better shot than I had given him credit for, and not only that but he had got a few more people up on to the roof with sniper rifles to give him a hand. Just as quickly as it got started, the gun fight was over. Corpses littered the parking lot, Zaibatsu and a few of our own… Mostly Zaibatsu, though.


The new found peace was short lived though, as the surrounding air was filled with the sound of sirens. The good ol’ LVPD, always around when you want some target practise. Though we don’t really need target practise, after all, we just had some.


Five squad cars came spinning round the corner, and stopped just outside. Perhaps in disbelief at the carnage, or perhaps for their own safety, who knows? Amongst the sound of sirens, a new sound was introduced. It was hard to distinguish, but eventually I figured out what it was. Though just as I did, a spotlight was searching about the parking lot. It was a damn police helicopter.


The police officers on the ground now had the parking lot surrounded. Well, I’m not the kind of guy to go down without a fight. I quickly opened fire on them, and as soon as I did so did everyone else. Snipers included.


We suffered a few more losses, but all in all, another victory. The helicopter was still there though. A few of the guys fired a few shots, taking out its spotlight. Its side door flung open, and what looked like a SWAT hung out with an M4 and opened fire on the snipers on the roof top. One was clearly caught in the left shoulder, causing him to stumble backwards. He fell off the west side of the building… of all the sides, he picks the one with the longest fall, and on to the railway tracks too.


Screaming all the way down, it was cut two feet short. I don’t think he could have timed it any better, but just as he was about to hit the ground, a train ended his life about three seconds prematurely.


Chesti-Kov managed to shoot the SWAT, who fell out of the helicopter and landed on one of my sentinels. What a pain! That was a new sentinel, too… I knew I should have parked it in the garage.


With that, the helicopter retreated, and left us with a bloody mess to clean up. Typical.


Corpses were everywhere. The Zaibatsu, LVPD and our own. Well, we had best get to it. I very much doubt they would rise from the dead and get off my land…

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General Scrotum

Omini~ $100 added for each chapters, as a compensation.


~Cheers, Secronom President (SP)~

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((Oh good, it's not dead-dead. Prologue and Chapter 1-1 "Rooftop Action" here for reference.))


Forelli Brothers

Prologue: Enemy of my Enemy


Las Venturas General Hospital, West Redsands

3 AM


It was cold and windy. I couldn't sleep.


Not I had any reason to right now, it was just that I never expected the end of the journey to be this...quiet. But here I was anyway, in the driver's seat of a car I'd barely managed to keep out of the junkyard, hoping to settle a score as old as I was.


I could see the airport nearby through the passenger's window. Even this late at night I could watch as flights continued to pass in and out of the city almost as much as they did during peak hours, from the private jets of those that got lucky to the low-cost airlines for the more numerous hordes that didn't. Along the road around the hospital, the occasional car passed, likely driven by the 9-to-5-to-9ers who were smart enough to know that the only to win in Venturas was to be the house.


With the window down, it felt like the jets' backblast had forced the cold breeze of the desert night through my car. It caused me to huddle up a bit in my seat shivering, but it did ease the pain from the bullet wounds under my bandaged chest and arms. It helped me clear my mind for what would probably be the last 15 minutes of my life. And it gave me a little time to think.


I'd done a lot of things to end up where I was now, good, bad, most somewhere in between. And a lot of things had been done to me. But I hadn't found a good moment of peace in the last week alone.


My moment of contemplation ended with the sound of a car parking beside mine. I turned to see a heavily-built black guy in a jacket and baggy jeans getting out of a customized dark-colored Greenwood and approaching my car. I got out of my own car quite pleased to see him.


"Thought you wouldn't make it," I replied groggily.

"You know I ain't a busta, Z," his fatigue clearly hadn't dampened his enthusiasm, "Gettin' the Leones off my back for good, won't be an opportunity like this again."


We'd gotten to know each other well since I arrived here, though it was hardly on the best of terms. About a month ago he had a gun to my head in a Los Santos basement, ready to kill me. Two weeks ago, I returned to Los Santos and was one bullet away from doing the exact same thing to him. Times changed quickly, though I had lived those two weeks having accepted that only one of us would leave Las Venturas alive.


I hadn't really given serious thought to improving those odds since. This being Venturas, my only sure bet was that the guy recovering from minor injuries in Room 310 would leave in a coffin instead of past the reception desk.


"We ready to put this guy to sleep?" he asked.

"Ready as I'll ever be, CJ," I sighed, eyeing the main door.


I had a Glock stuffed into the front pocket of my hoodie, but that was only if I needed it. I suspected Carl "CJ" Johnson had brought a lot more firepower with him than he appeared to have, but he could bring whatever suited his style as long as the job got done. I would know, hell, I could safely assume I'd known that longer than anybody else he'd known.


After this job was over, I'd be left with tall odds against once it came down to me and him. It would be way too late to get reinforcements from Liberty City, let alone downtown Venturas. The hospital staff would most likely probably find my bullet-riddled body beside my car in the parking lot.


But whether or not I'd live to see daylight, I felt an eerie sense of calm knowing I could go without a grudge.


Chapter 1-1: Down To Earth


2 months ago

Las Venturas International Airport


"...we hope you've enjoyed your flight on Juank Air."


The plane eased up as the landing gear struck the runway, rousing me from the nap I took during the flight. The other passengers on the plane would have slowly awakened from a relatively relaxed slumber despite the fact that we flew economy. I got jolted awake by a sting in my right shoulder. Putting my hand to it, I noticed the swelling had mostly subsided, but it wouldn't see a lot of moving for a while.


Compared to the view from the sky, there was little of the Strip's glitter to be savored from in front of the airport terminal. The only thing that greeted me apart from the taxi to the Mirage was a cold gust of desert wind.


"Take me to the Visage," I muttered, lifting my lone piece of luggage into the trunk.

"No problem, sir," the cabbie replied as I got in.


The cab pulled away from the airport and made its way over the Thruway toward the Strip. I wasn't in the mood for sightseeing right now, at least compared to trying to make sure my arm didn't quit on me.


It was on a particularly cold and windy morning a couple days ago when I realized how much I hated freerunning.


Especially when my first lesson involved chasing a Diablo up to and across the roofs of Saint Mark's, and one that seemed particularly skilled in it.


2 days earlier

Hepburn Heights, Liberty City


This particular Diablo had just run down a drugstore under the family's protection the morning after we'd saved it from a similar robbery. Fortunately for us, the shop owner knew the guy from the neighborhood and pointed me and my buddy Carlo Lazzaro to his hangout at the park by the projects.


The guy started running as soon as Carlo called out his name. He went for his car, but he lost enough time in fumbling the keys for Carlo to tackle him. True to our term for where the Diablos came from, the Diablo actually managed to squirm out of Carlo's usually bear-like grapple. Soon as he got on his feet, the douchebag then kicked Carlo's face against the side of his car before dashing into the nearest alleyway.


"Dammit, Z! Get after him, I'll catch up..." he groaned as he propped himself against the car just to stand up.


I was able to keep within eyesight and earshot as he ducked into a nearby building already inside Saint Mark's. He immediately headed up the fire exit stairs, and I broke into a sweat just trying to keep up...which would have made the cold winds breezing across the rooftops a welcome refresher. But that wasn't as continuous as I'd hoped, as I ended up chasing him and over some rather warm exhaust vents.


The good news about this block was there there weren't many wide gaps to jump over. The bad news was that the block eventually came to an end at the side street that ran down the middle of Saint Mark's.


The really bad news was that I thought I'd actually lost him at this point, checking over the ledge only to turn to find he'd managed to hide behind a chimney to ambush me. By the time I caught sight of him, he was just about to push me off. I slipped back from the shove, falling over the ledge but managing to catch the edge with my fingers.


"'chu thought you could catch ME, man?" he taunted, my grip on the concrete slowly slipping. Knowing that I was essentially f*cked, he raised one of his feet to stomp at my fingers.


I let go of the ledge right before the Diablo's foot hit my left hand, leaving me swinging several stories above concrete death.


"Ah, hell..." I grumbled, managing to find whatever grip I could before the Diablo's foot came down on my other hand. "GAAAAGHf*ck!"


Perhaps out of reflex, or because the asshole's foot actually secured that hand to the ground, I managed to pull myself just enough to grab onto that heel. He withdrew his foot just enough to get off my other hand, and I returned the favor as I grabbed his ankle.


I forgot to let go of him as he tumbled off the roof, the added weight effortlessly yanking my remaining fingers off the ledge. I let go of him too late to realize that I was already falling.


Fortunately, by the time I'd realized that, I ended up landing in what felt like a long planter box about a floor down from where I'd been clinging to dear life. It hurt like a bitch, knocking my shoulder on the edge. The screaming, however, continued until interrupted by the sound of crunching metal.


The sound of a car alarm a few more stories below though managed to get my attention above the pain long enough to find out what happened to the guy I chased down. Turns out it wasn't me that was screaming.


I slowly got up and peered over the edge to see the poor sap embedded into - and nearly split in two across - the collapsed roof of an SUV parked by the sidewalk. A crowd was already gathering, more curious than shocked apart from one particularly whiny pedestrian that had to be the SUV's owner. I guess most of them were used to having people die around their neighborhood, just not in the manner of being chucked off a roof.


That of course meant that once they got over their curiosity, they'd go looking for whoever chucked him off the roof. As luck would also have it, the planter box was attached to an abandoned building whose windows hadn't been boarded up. I slowly climbed in...and collapsed onto the floorboards to make sure I still had my bearings. The impact must have aroused a decade's worth of dust bunnies because I started coughing almost immediately.


Soon as I figured I could stand I limped around the hallway until I could find the fire exit stairs.


A Diablo Stallion pulled up to the doorway as soon as I opened it. Its driver didn't look like one of the Diablo's friends.


"sh*t, am I glad to see you," I coughed.

"Just get in, Z!" Carlo replied.


A sharp pain stabbed into my shoulder as I used the hand attached to that arm to open the door handle. The car started moving as soon as I lifted my foot inside, and I let the acceleration sink me into the seat like I'd been thrown onto a stretcher.


"Goddammit, Z, what happened up there?!"

"What do ya think?! Asshole tried to take me off the roof with him," I seethed. "Almost landed like he- f*ck, I don't think I can feel my arm."

"Just tape a block of ice to that thing for a couple hours, you'll be fine," Carlo replied, "Worse comes to worse they're gonna have to amputate."

"f*ck you, Carlo," I replied, forcing a chuckle.

"Don't worry. Hopefully his friends won't get the same idea to drop into the Ryton Aide again for a free box of uppers."

"And we score a few extra bucks from the crusher for this baby. Shame...this looks like the owner took pretty good care of it."

"Good thing he left the keys to me before he died..." Carlo pointed to the ignition, where the Stallion's keys were indeed inserted.


Both of us took a hearty laugh - mainly to take attention off our respective injuries - before Carlo dropped me off at my place.


My 'place' was the backroom of a laundromat that happened to be on the other end of Hepburn Heights. It was 'out-of-the-way' enough that any Diablo that decided to come knocking would usually receive a 'double-barrel surprise' if he didn't leave at the warning shot.


As soon as Carlo dropped me off, I kicked the door closed and fetched an icebag from the small refrigerator before collapsing onto the mattress. Just as well, I needed a bit of rest and relaxation after quite literally getting the wind knocked out of me.


I just didn't expect a trip to Venturas was included, for all the glitz and glamour parading across the windows of the taxi as we pulled onto the Strip toward the Visage. So far, things were going pretty well. My injured arm seemed to adjust more to the deep faux-leather seats of the taxi compared to the slabs of foam of Juank Air's economy class.


Comfort aside though, I wasn't exactly here on pleasure. And as Venturas rules went, fortune never lasted.



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General Scrotum

I might as I might not. tounge2.gif




Forelli_Boy~ $100 added for you first chapter as a compensation and $100x5 as a compensation and as the bonus of the TotW (Them of the Week). In other words; $500.

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Forelli_Boy~ $100 added for you first chapter as a compensation and $100x5 as a compensation and as the bonus of the TotW (Them of the Week). In other words; $500.

In that case I should get a x5 compensation for TotW, since my 2nd chapter had rooftop action.



And you need the




for the Grove Street Families.

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General Scrotum

Alright. I will add the $400 missing and correct this little error. Thanks pointing that out. icon14.gif



was coming from the Ballas.


~Cheers, Secronom President (SP)~

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Could I join the Leone Mafia Family at Redsands West Safehouse please?

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General Scrotum

Disgraceful~ Great to see a new member. You can start to write right now.


EDIT: I am looking for three staff members.

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General Scrotum

Theme of the Week (TotW):


The theme for this week is "Jail Break". You must write a chapter on breaking out of a jail or getting a friend from outside helping you get out of prison.


If you write a chapter about getting out of prison by yourself (with help of prisoners), you get a bonus of $500.


If you write a chapter about someone from the outside freeing you, you gte the car used by your savors.


For both chapters, you get triple of the rate. So, if you earn $66, you earn, $198 since $66x3=$198.

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General Scrotum


I'd like to sell the Emperor, Stretch and 9mm please, if that's okay.

Do you still wish to sell what you PM'ed me about?


EDIT: I joined the Loco Syndicate at Big Smoke's Crack Palace and I will sell: Big Smoke's House, Ryder's House, 9mm, Tec-9, AK-47, Rocket Launcher, Burrito, Picador, Maverick and the Speeder for a "grand" total of $17 815.

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I'd like to sell the Emperor, Stretch and 9mm please, if that's okay.

Do you still wish to sell what you PM'ed me about?

Nah, I'll sell the Chilliad Safehouse instead please.

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General Scrotum

Alright. Since you are in a Las Venturas property and you are selling a Whetstone property, you get $600.


EDIT: From now on, Forelli_Boy, is a staff member.

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I'll be buying the following:

Silenced 9mm ($115)

Sniper Rifle ($300)

Satchel Charges ($75)


Total: $490


Current Cash: $1600

New Cash: $1110

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General Scrotum

Omini~ Weapons been added.


EDIT: If someone wants to join the Loco Syndicate, just tell me a property you would like to have and I'll buy it so you can write for them.

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I'd like to buy the following for the Leone Family please:


BF-400 - $600

Cheetah - $750


Molotovs - $5

Tear Gas - $30

Satchel Charges - $75

Baseball Bat - $10

Knife - $8

Ak-47 - $330

SMG - $250

Shotgun - $250


Total - $2308


Leaving me with $537

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General Scrotum

Disgraceful~ Weapons and vehicles added.

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You can deal me back in.



user posted image


Chapter 1: Bounce


“Hey, dumbsh*t! Move!” I yelled. Tony looked around, and saw me standing behind him. His answer was a stupid look and a gaping mouth. “I said move! Your shift's over!” He looked confused, but he eventually got it, and walked away, in no apparent direction. “Asshole.” I muttered to my self, and took position by the door of the Pleasure Domes, the club where I worked security.


The job didn't pay too well, but what I lacked in my paycheck, I made up for in bribes to let people in. But the reason I love this job isn't the money, it's the fights. A lot of people want to get in here, but they're just not good enough, and that's where I come in. I separate the rich from the ruffians, the later of which often times get angry when I reject them, and come looking for revenge. But I didn't get to be head enforcer for the San Fierro Rifa for nothing. They come packing a bat, or a pipe, but their efforts are never enough. I beat them down like grass, and they never show their faces around here again. Some of them are smart, and come packing heat, but they're still no match for me. I could disarm them before they'd even know what hit them, and put a bullet in the back of their head just as fast.


I stood in front of the door and peered out into the crowd of people that gather nightly in front of the club, hoping to get in. Most of them didn't stand a chance in hell of ever seeing the inside of the Domes, but every now and then, some come along willing to pay to enter the legendary hotspot. And they do. And they have the best night of their lives. One such patron, a regular named Jimmy, pushed his way through the crowd, and up to me.


“Hey, how's it goin'?” he asked nonchalantly as he handed me a wad of cash.


“Fine, just fine.” I responded as I counted the bills, and opened the doors for him. Some of the crowd lurched forward, trying to force their way through the door, but I held them back as Jimmy walked in and the door shut behind him.


“Okay, that's all for tonight!” I yelled over the conversations that took place among the pedestrians. “Now get the hell outta here, or I'll be forced to take serious measures!” Most of the crowd came here regularly, and knew that I would act upon the threat, so they cleared out. Some others lingered, and required and few angry looks to get them moving. After the space around the club was empty, I walked inside. The heavy steel doors blocked the music from coming outside, so when I opened them I was hit with a wave of loud techno music. I walked inside, and locked the doors behind me. The club was full of people, most of which either knew Jizzy, the owner, personally, or were more familiar with Ben Franklin. The patrons watched the scantly clad dancers on the stage and in the private booths, and threw massive amounts of cash onto the stage, hoping for a peek beneath the oiled up stars' tight little outfits.


I walked into the back corner of the club, where Jizzy usually hangs out. He was sitting with two women, an arm around each, and watching a third bounce around on the mini-platform in front of him.


“The club's full tonight, sir.” I said. “We'll probably make up for last week's 'incident' in a few hours.”


“What are you? My accountant?” Jizzy shouted “No! You're my bouncer. So why don't you bounce on outta here and let me enjoy the company of these fine female specimens.” He waved me away, and I obliged. I walked back towards the front door, but turned into a side hallway and went through the door that led to the employee lounge. It wasn't much of a lounge, more of a storeroom, but it was where the various staff members could relax between their duties. There was a couch with an ugly plaid pattern in one corner, a table with three folding chairs around it in the middle, and a small counter area with a mini-fridge and a coffee machine sitting on it, both out of commission due to to the lack of power in the room.


I was alone in the room, so I walked over to the couch and flopped down on my back. I decided to get some rest to be ready for the morning after, when the 'problem customers' refused to leave, too drunk from the night before to realize they were out of money, and still insisting on showering the dancers with singles. They would be dealt with, much like the ones that never made it in. I fell asleep thinking about how much I f*cking love this job.



Chapter 2: Bomb Da Boat


I heard a sound. It was faint at first, but it grew louder as time went on. It was a familiar sound, one I'd definitely heard before; a beeping of sorts. I opened my eyes a bit, and saw a large white expanse. I then realized that it was my wall, and I was back in my house, in bed. This realization led me to figure out that the beeping was coming from the alarm clock on my bedside table. I rolled away from the wall to turn it off, and fell of the side of the bed.


“F*ck.” I muttered to my self, and groped around the nightstand until I found the off switch, and flipped it. The beeping stopped immediately. I picked myself up off the floor, and walked over to my dresser. I pulled out a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt, and proceeded to put them on. After I found my boots under the bed, I walked out of the bedroom and towards the front door, stopping short to pick up my light blue bandanna, which I tied around my neck, and walked outside.


The sun shone bright, and I was forced to stand on the porch as my eyes adjusted to the rapid change in lighting. I walked over to my car, a dark blue Blade, and climbed inside. The key slipped into the ignition, and I was off down the road. My destination was the Burger Shot a few blocks away. Me and Jorge (another Rifa member) had agreed to meet there.. He said he wanted to talk to me about some important business. I cruised down the street and looked at my surroundings. This part of San Fierro was a nice place to live. There wasn't very much crime (other than the ones I committed), the people were friendly, and the houses were amazing. You could tell that the city put a lot of work into this district.


I pulled up at the Burger Shot, and saw Jorge waiting outside, smoking a cigarette and leaning against a wall.


“Come on inside.” He said as I walked up, and we stepped through the door into the restaurant. There were only three people there, besides the ones working behind the counter, so we had plenty of choices on where to sit. Jorge walked over to a booth in the corner, away from the other patrons, and sat down.


“Okay, I'll get straight to business.” Jorge started before I could even get settled. From the tone of his voice, I could tell this was going to be serious. “The Da Nang Boys are receiving a shipment of drugs in an hour on a freighter. If they get those drugs, we can kiss our own dealings goodbye. I need you to make sure that the boat never gets here. Got it?”


“Right.” I responded. Jorge nodded, got up, and hustled out of the joint. I sat there for a few minutes, gathering myself for the task ahead, and finally stood up and left. I walked back to my car and opened the trunk. I rummaged through the mess that had accumulated in there over the years until I found what I was looking for. An AK-47, and a satchel charge. I hurried around to the front of the car and hopped in, hoping that no one had seen the weapons. I deposited them in the back seat, and started up the car. It rumbled to life, and I peeled out of the parking lot and into the street, headed for the docks.


I parked my car a few blocks from where the ship was supposed to dock, so I wouldn't alert the Da Nangs of my presence. I picked up the AK and charge and placed them in a backpack. After slinging it over my shoulder, I walked over to the entrance to the dock area, and saw several of the Vietnamese gang members guarding it. I figured there were two ways to handle it. I could run in, gun blazing, and hope to take them by surprise, or I could sneak my way in. I chose the latter, and crept away from the guard house that marked the entrance, until I was out of sight, and jumped over the fence surrounding the area. I landed silently, and crept behind a stack of shipping crates. The Da Nangs were everywhere, but I found a break in their patrol, and used it to hurry over to one of the many piers that jutted off of the side of the docks area. There was a dinghy anchored there, with a single gangster guarding it. Let's just say he wasn't much of a challenge. I disposed of his body into the bay, fired up the dinghy, and jetted out to sea.


The immensity of the boat made it easy to spot from a ways away, and I pulled up beside it in the stolen boat. Luckily for me, there was a ladder hanging off the side of the tanker, and I quickly climbed up to the top deck, and was immediately spotted by one of the patrolling Da Nangs. He shouted something in what I assumed was Vietnamese, and the entire boat went into action, every gang member coming to see what was happening. I whipped out my AK, and fired off three shots, all of which hit their target, bringing him down. More started running down the ship in my direction, and I took cover behind one of the shipping crates. I peered around the corner, and was welcomed with several bullets, which barely missed me as I spun back into my hiding place. A break in the fire allowed me to turn myself around and return fire. I was able to kill five before my ammo ran out, and I resumed hiding as the bullets started flying again.


After about 10 minutes of the shoot and hide maneuver, I had taken enough of them out so I could run down the ship, and found a door to enter the hold. There were several sets of stairs going down, and even more Da Nangs waiting for me at the bottom, so I shot as I ran. I wasn't nearly as accurate while moving, but it created enough covering fire to get me halfway down the stairs, but the gangsters had started coming up, and more funneled in from above. I looked around at the bottom of the hold, and saw a something that resembled a large dumpster, and, as luck would have it, it was filled with cardboard boxes. I took a leap of faith off the side of the stairs, and landed safely in the boxes, suffering only some minor bruises. I climbed out of the dumpster, and saw that most of the gang members were still by the stairs, giving me a perfect opportunity to plant the charge. I crouched down between two of the many crates that filled the belly of the ship, and set the detonator to go off in 5 minutes. I shoved it back where it wouldn't be found, and stood up, just as the Vietnamese gangsters had found me.


The shot at me, but they were moving this time, and every bullet missed. I shot back, hitting most of them in the chest, causing them to fall to the ground. I turned around and ran as the remaining Da Nangs jumped over the bodies of their fallen comrades and started chasing me. I ran down one aisle of crates, and made a one-eighty at the end, heading back towards the stairs. I checked my watch as I ran, a much easier task than shooting, and saw that I had only 3 minutes to get off the boat. I picked up the pace, and booked it for the stairs. I reached them, and looked back. The gangsters were only just coming around the corner at the other end of the hold, giving me a chance to run up the stairs, and I emerged at the top with one minute left. I could hear the shouts coming from the door I had just come from, as well as from the other end of the ship.


“Sh*t! Surrounded.” I said to myself, and knew I had to make a decision fast. It turns out that the answer was to take my second flying leap of the day (and, coincidentally, the entire year), this time off the side of the ship. My high school diving lessons paid off, and I performed a perfect dive into the dock water below. The height of the jump caused me to go down a few feet, and as I resurfaced, I was beginning to think this was the luckiest day of my life. Not ten feet from me, having been carried by the current, was my dinghy. I thanked the higher powers for their graciousness, and climbed aboard. I started it up, and revved it away as fast as it would go. At a safe distance, I shut it off and turned around. Mere seconds after this, the ship exploded, sending shipping crates and twisted pieces of metal flying in all directions. I took the opportunity to take a few pictures, to document this glorious site for generations to come, and started making my way back to shore. Along the way, I took out my phone and called Jorge.


“It's done. We won't be getting any trouble from them for a while.” I said as he answered.


“Good. I knew I could count on you.” He said, and hung up. I re-pocketed my phone just as I approached the San Fierro shore. I beached the craft, and hopped out. I had landed just a few blocks from the Pleasure Domes as it turned out, and decided to enjoy a little R&R before returning home. Noon wasn't the most interesting time there, but once you got past the scars the dancers seemed alright. I ordered a drink from the bar, and retired to one of the private rooms, where a topless dancer was waiting for customers.


“Okay baby, make me smile!”


Chapter 3: Watch Your Step


I shined my flashlight in another room, which turned out to be empty, just like every other room in the building. No surprise, as it was after closing time, and no one would dare break into the Pleasure Domes, not with the reputation it had. There was only one room left. The office on the second floor. I walked up the stairs and down the hall to the door marked 'Private', unlocked the door, and slipped inside. It was pitch black except for the beam emitted from the light in my hand. I groped around the wall beside the door until I found what I was looking for. I flipped the switch, and the room was bathed in light from the single fixture on the ceiling.


The office was rather large, with about three car lengths separating the wall I stood against and the far wall, and four separating the walls to my sides. There were two doors to my right, one of which led to a closet, and the other to the safe room. I walked over to the desk that was centered opposite the door, and checked beneath it. I wasn't going to take any more chances, as the robbery last week had severely hurt my reputation. It was only in his extreme arrogance that Jizzy had given me the night patrol again. I walked over to the closet, and opened it up. I shined my light inside, revealing a shelf with various cleaning supplies on it, a broom and mop laying against one wall, and a bucket sitting in front of them. Nothing out of place.


I closed the door and walked over to the door that marked the safe room. It had a lock on it, for added security, and as I shuffled with my key ring to find the right one, I heard a noise in the hallway outside the office. On a hunch, I turned the knob, and sure enough, it opened, revealing an open safe with only a few bills remaining.


“Son of a bitch!” I exclaimed, and ran out into the hall. I was fast enough to spot the intruder as he was running down the hall. I shouted after him, but he kept running. I gave chase and booked it down the hall after him. A recent construction project had meant that a scaffold had to be installed inside the club so that the workers could easily access the roof, and the thief had seen this as an opportunity to escape. He ran up the boards that made up the walkway, and pushed open the skylight. I stayed on his tail, and jumped out onto the roof after him.


I was met with a bat to the stomach, and fell to the ground in pain. The thief laughed and swung again. However, I was ready this time, and grabbed the bat in mid swing. I threw the weapon off the roof, and knocked the punks legs out from under him. He fell down as I got up, and I took the opportunity to kick him in the side a few times. I could have killed him right there, but I hadn't had a good fight in a while, so I decided to play with him for a little bit. He got up, but I kicked him again, sending him back to the ground. He groaned, but still managed to get up on his feet. Once he got his bearings, he actually proved to be a formidable opponent. I threw a couple punches his way, but he blocked them effortlessly. He returned the favor, but I simply swatted his fists aside like flies. He mixed it up with a couple of kicks, and I even allowed him to get a couple hits in to get his hopes up, but I was still to much for him. I hit him with a hook, and he was down again, this time seemingly for good.


I walked over to him and offered my hand, as a joke. He grabbed it, and pulled me down with him. I fell on top of him, and he pushed me off, whipping a knife out of his pocket at the same time. Lunging at me, he thrust the knife at my throat, stopping only when he met my hands as the pushed against the nearing knife. The sick bastard was laughing, obviously thinking this was it. What he didn't know was that I always loved to let people think they've won, only to swoop in at the last minute for victory. The blade was almost at my neck, but just before it sunk in, I heaved the guy off of me. Not knowing my own strength, I had thrown him too far, and he crashed through the skylight. I quickly crawled over to the newly created hole and watched as he fell. His screams probably could have been heard a few blocks away. The fall itself wasn't too high, but it was made worse by the fact that directly below where he had smashed the glass, a newly installed pole stood erect. He fell the two stories, and his back made contact with the pole, which forced it's way through him, impaling him with a sickening sound that I couldn't even begin to describe. Even with my tough disposition, the sight was too gruesome, and I averted my eyes.


I made my way back to where I had originally climbed onto the roof, and made my way back down. I stopped in the office to deposit the money in the safe and lock the door. I passed the poor fellow on my way out. I thought about trying to dislodge him and dispose of the body, but decided that was a job the janitor could take care of tomorrow. Speaking of tomorrow, the next day, I arrived and saw an ambulance and a couple police cars parked outside. I walked in, and was immediately hit with the horrible stench of death. The EMTs were wheeling out the dead criminal in a body bag, and I almost gagged as they passed, carrying the awful smell with them. How they put up with it, I could never understand.


“What the hell happened?” Jizzy said as he ran up to me with an extremely angry look in his eyes.


“Some joker thought he could rip us off. I had to teach him a lesson.” I stated simply. Jizzy didn't look like he liked that answer, but decided against an altercation and stormed off to the comfort of his favorite dancers. I walked back outside, and took position outside the door, ready for the inevitable stream of people that would bombard the Domes in a few minutes. The ambulance and cop cars had left, making room for the flood of cars that poured into the parking lot. People got out and rushed the door. One in particular, a new guy, got his hand on the handle, but was stopped by my muscular arm.


“Sorry buddy. You're not on the list.” I said to him, and pushed him to the ground. Seeing me for the first time, he turned around and scampered away into the crowd, never to be seen by me again. I smiled. Did I mention how much I love my job?





I'm going to sell Cranberry Station, the 9mm and baseball bat, and the Stallion.

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General Scrotum

UNRATED69~ As a compensation, like everyone else received or will receive, you get $100 for each chapters. For your three chapters, you get $300.


EDIT: Weapons, vehicle and property sold.

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Loco Syndicate - Big Smoke's Crack House

Chapter One – The True Members of the Loco Syndicate

May 26, 1991 – 14:14


You know what I hate the most? Someone inside but from the outside! Phil Spock isn’t a Red Jack! He’s a Purple Nine! He’s havin’ a meeting with some members of the Purple Nines, right now. Kill ‘em all! Do this fo’ me and you’ll be my right hand, once again.


D-Ice had left this note on my door. This was, finally, the time to get my vengeance and, to prove my valor, once again. I would not fail this mission. I would not fail to the man who gave me a second life. I would not fail to the man who was my second father.


I was 13 at the time. My family had been killed by the Purple Nines, three years ago. I was alone, in the streets, stealing to survive. One day, while I was stealing, the owner of the shop caught me and called the cops. Everything seemed lost, when I got in the back of the car, until, all of a sudden, one of them felt to the ground and, right after, the other one. A man in red had killed them and was walking to me.


“Hey, kid. You think you can drive a car?” asked the man. He pointed a Rumpo XL.


“Yeah. Who are you, mister?” I asked. I got out of the car and, with him, walked to the vehicle.


“I’m the leader of the Red Jacks. My name is D-Ice,” he said. We got in the car and I started the engine.


“Where are we going to?” I asked. I knew the answer but wanted to be sure.


“To Wichita Gardens. I know it’s there that the Purple Nines killed you parents but…” he mumbled. I knew he didn’t want to make it hard for me.


“You want me to grow there so that one day I can kill them,” I completed for him. He looked at me and nodded.


“There’s another reasons too. I can tell that a great destiny awaits you,” he said. I looked at him, curious to know more.


“Really? That’s good to hear,” I said. Pictures of how I would be successful were filling my head.


“I promise that, one day, we will get those who killed your parents, even if we must burn the whole city,” he said, with a voice meant to convince me. It made me smile.


I followed his indications and we arrived to a red building. I followed him inside and we took the elevator up to the tenth floor. We walked to room number two and got inside.


“You’re going to live with me, until you’re 18,” he said. I smiled and started to eat something I had taken out of the fridge.


This is where my life started again and I didn’t fail him a single time. I took the elevator and got in my car. On the seat, to my right, there was a note.


I have a good new for you. When I took you under my wing, I promised you to find the killers of your parents. Do you remember? Well… It seems that Phil Spock is one of them. He’s all yours. Take some of my boys and pay him a little visit. I’ve already sent some. Good luck. You ‘gonna need it.


Knowing this, I took three guys and sped to his house in Cedar Grove. Three other cars followed us. There, four other cars, full of our guys, were blocking the road. They had cleaned the streets and were waiting for us to break through the gates. We, the three leaders of the attack, grouped together and made up a plan.


The plan was simple; two vehicles would break through in the garage area, to destroy all the vehicles, to prevent a possible escape for any of them while the rest of us would break trough the gate leading to the courtyard to force them back into the house.


The cleaning of the garage zone didn’t even take five minutes. For us, it was another story. Even if the house was circled, we were pinned down. Shooters were positioned in all of the windows. Normally, a MP5K would beat a Colt .45 but this was different. The Colt .45 was beating the crap out of the MP5K. These guys were well trained and skilled. We fought like this for one more hour until I saw gas on the ground. I took my cell phone and dialed up one of my contacts phone number.


“Colonel Cortez? It’s Red Jack. I need some firepower!” I said. He knew what I meant and proposed me some Molotov Cocktails. I accepted.


“You’re lucky. One of my guys is in Shoreside Vale. Where do you want them delivered?” he asked. He asked this question with a serious tone. He said this with the tone of a business man.


“Cedar Grove. He will know where to deliver them,” I replied. He wished me good luck and left.


I was right. Two minutes after, a man arrived, with Molotov Cocktails. He sold them to me, only for $5. The guy was lucky. He nearly got killed five times.


I ordered to the three guys with me to pass some to the others ones. In our heads, we counted to three and throw them through the windows. The fire caught rapidly and we ran to the doors. Some of our boys stayed outside just in case that some of these Purple Nines would try to jump out of the windows, shoot at us or to throw more Cocktails.


Inside the house, we separated us in two groups. Twelve of us would clean the first floor while the other twelve would inspect the second floor. I was in the group going upside. It was damn hot. On the second floor, we could hear Phil yelling orders to his men to regroup to him. I had another plan, for them.


Six of us got to the right and the six others to the left. The shots on the first floor had ceased and the left part of the second floor was clean. Everyone grouped with me and we emerged in Phil’s chamber. We cleaned the room. These poor guys didn’t stand a chance. We were 24 and they were six.


“Get out. I have a business to attend here,” I ordered them. They obeyed me, immediately.


I looked under the bed and laughed because Phil and a stranger were hiding under of it. I pulled out the stranger out of his spot. It was, surprisingly, the guy who had been supposedly killed by the cops yesterday. As I didn’t want to stay here any longer, I pushed him away, departed the room and ordered those who still had Molotov’s to throw them in the room.


Outside, we could hear their screams. Phil was burning like my parents had died. This house was going to be known, from Shoreside Vale to Portland, as my official come back with the Red Jacks.


We drove back to Wichita Gardens. D-Ice and all the boys were waiting for us.


“Good job, Red,” he said. I knew he was hiding something because of the way he said it.


“Thanks. Is there something else? Why is everyone else out there?” I asked. Some guys were heavily armed.


“Yes… We are forced to move out of Liberty City. Someone informed the FBI of your return, your identity and of what you’ve done four years ago and of what you’ve done since your back,” he said. I could see he was angry.


“So? We are forced to quit? All of us?” I asked. The look on his face was enough to answer me. It was a yes.


“The good new is that we are making $900 by selling our properties. The second good new is that we will only have to pay $600 to start a new life for the gang. We are going to San Andreas in San Fierro. I’ve got a friend there ready to sell us Otto’s Autos. We will stay there until we can return to Liberty City,” he added with a fake smile. He got in is car and everyone else followed him to the airport.


This was going to be a new page of the history. A new page for the gang. A new page of my life. A new page for…. Everyone.


At the airport, we took a plane straight to San Fierro.




Loco Syndicate - Big Smoke's Crack House

Chapter Two – Two Loco Syndicate Members Histories - Part. 1

May 26, 1991 – 14:14


My name is D-Bone Mendez. I’m 24 years old and my father is T-Bone Mendez. He is the leader, or at least, one of the leaders of the San Fierro Rifa gang. We are also known as the Northern Mexicans of San Fierro or the Norteños. It is the day when I can join my father’s gang. Even though I’m the son of T-Bone Mendez, like everyone else, I must climb up the ranks of the gang. Those that are not from the gang are outsiders. Those that are new are bejines. Their job is to guard the gate and patrol the Crack Lab yard or there are those that, but rarely, work with drugs. After that, there are the veteranos. They patrol the streets and do missions around the city. These missions are to beat up someone, killing someone or taking care of the ‘vario. The last rank, which is rare for someone to reach it, is, what the gangster of Los Santos vulgarly call, the OG’s. We call them the leaders. They are the ones that make up the decisions and all the other things around.


There are currently three gangs, four if we include the Grove Street Families that control Wang Cars ‘vario, which is big enough to make them have some influence a little deep in Downtown San Fierro, in San Fierro. There are us, the Triads and the Da Nang Boys. These two gangs are at war since the first arrival of the Vietnamese in town.


I was about to take my position at the main entrance when someone wanted to see me. It was, to my great surprise…




Loco Syndicate - Big Smoke's Crack House

Chapter Three – Two Loco Syndicate Members Histories - Part. 2

May 26, 1991 – 15:48


My father wanted to see me. He gave me a little briefcase and said, “There’s $500 in this and 3.5 grams of SPANK. Go to Angel Pine and ask for George Ollosson. He’s an old friend of mine. He’s having a cabin near Angel Pine. I want you to pay him, for it, with the $500.”


“Alright. And after?” I asked, knowing there was more than that to it.


“He continued, “Well… In fact, the land around it would cost $500 and the cabin $600. Since, as I said before, he’s an old friend… Well… He sells me the land for $350 and the cabin for $150.”


As what he said did not answer my question, I insisted, “It is not a proper answer, dad! What about the drug?”


He launched it all away, “I want you to start a drug empire in Whetstone. We will send you, by boat, three times a week, drugs. With the Coastguard boats we stole, it will be easy to get past the police. The boats will come to the beach, the Sunday, the Monday and the Friday, near Angel Pine. For the SPANK, just make sure that when you sell it that the price is $285.77. It should get you started.”


“Alright”, I simply said.


As he walked away, he turned back to add, “Oh! And don’t forget that you will have to pay them for every drug you’ll take. We cannot go and hand over free drugs to everybody. It also means that I promote you to a leader of the San Fierro Rifa” , to walk away right after leaving me alone.


I walked to a News van. Just as I was about to enter it, eleven guys came to me. A man named Ole Rifa approached me. He opened his mouth and said, “Ola, cabron! Your father told me to tell you that building a Weed Farm, a Crack Den or a Cocaine Ring would help you. A Meth Lab would be really a great idea, chico. Well… That’s what I think. Let’s go, hombres”, then to order three of them to get in my vehicle. He and the others took the two other ones.


When we exited the Crack Lab yard, we took a right turn. At the four-way intersection, we drove south until Angel Pine. The cars parked in a Motel parking, we started to look for George Ollosson, in many groups of two. After an hour of searching, eating at the Cluckin’ Bell, our News van parked here, a man, with a weird beard and near 60 years old, approached us.


“Y’all guys lookin’ for George Ollosson?” said the man with a countryside accent.


I looked at him, shaked his hand and answered him, “Yes, we are. Who are you, cabron?”


“I’m ya’ guy. I’m George Ollosson. Wht c’n I do fo’ ya’?” he said, with his accent.


“I am D-Bone Mendez the son of T-Bone Mendez. He told me to find you and to pay the $500 needed for the cabin and its land”, I said, with a small smile, trying not to laugh of his accent.


“How’s the ol’ man doin’? I didn’t kno’ he ‘ad a boy… Is he still a San ‘ierro Rifa lea’er?” he asked.


Trying to make a mix of Mexican and countryside accent, I said this, “’e’s doin’ good, ‘ombre”, which made him laugh.


“Stop laughing, puta!” yelled Rifa, pulling out his 9mm.

“Calm donw… It’s ok…” I said, trying to calm him.


The man laughed again and said, “He’s really wantin’ to do t’is…”


Mumbling to myself, “Yeah…” it gave him an answer.


“A’ight. I’ll be on ma’ Quad. Follo’ me. And…” he said, without finishing his sentence, going outside.


We followed him outside to see something spectacular and horrible. The Los Santos Vagos and the Varrios Los Aztecas were having a fight with fists, 9mm’s and doing drive-by attacks on their enemies.


This, with all its noise, had attracted the police. The Los Santos, San Fierro and Whetstone police, which is in charge of Flint County and Whetstone, intervened. The old man yelled, “Go in the forest!” and put a kind of map on the ground before getting caught in a car explosion.


The explosion made him flew right in the middle of a drive-by fight between the Vagos and the Whetstone police. Getting shot a few bullets was inevitable for him.


We ran to our cars and drove, as fast as we could, out of Angel Pine. We followed his instruction. The road to get in the forest was shady. Even scary. The forest was shadier and scarier. Finally, we found the cabin. It was more shady than scary.


When I checked them map, I knew why. We had passed through Shady Creek and we were at Shady Cabin. Rifa entered first.


He yelled, “f*cking hijo de puta! We’ve been tricked! The cabin is empty as hell!” getting out of it, running to his News van.


Quickly, without knowing was I was doing, I ran to the back of it and jumped in. Within a few minutes, we were back at the Cluckin’ Bell. It is, only at this moment, that I realized that I did not pay the old man and that I had lost the $500.


I got out of the car to see that everything got cleaned up already. The manager of the restaurant told me that he saw him get back up and running to me to take the $500 and fleeing to the west. In other words; Mount Chilliad.


I walked back to Shady Cabin and got in.


After this adventure, there was a positive point; the old man got paid and he could die in peace.




Loco Syndicate - Big Smoke's Crack House

Chapter Four – Two Loco Syndicate Members Histories - Part. 3

May 26, 1991 – 16:09


The cabin, like Rifa said, was empty. I inspected the water source behind it. Walking back to our “property”, a sound looking like tires breaking could be heard. By the number of times it happened, I calculated at least twenty cars. Each cars had four doors, by what I heard when the tires breaking sound stopped.


Rifa had come back and 76 Rifa guys had arrived right after. He told us that the cops had barricaded Angel Pine and that he called some backup to get rid of them. We planned our attack on the town when 24 guys arrived in Jet Packs. Not even ten seconds after, ten boats with four allies on each docked their boats on the sand.


Having 140 allies plus us, making 152, we planned a more complex plan. But… It would not be enough. I got a call from the Sheriff, Duff “Though” Doughnut, informing us that he knew what we were preparing. He added that the San Fierro and the Los Santos police would be blocking all the possible ways to get out of Whetstone in a few minutes.


I ordered Rifa to call some more backup. These guys got luck. Just as they crossed the bridge near the Junk Yard, the cops arrived to make the roadblocks. Some more guys arrived in Jet Packs, saying that they saw helicopters on their way, on their way here.


Our boats left to get some more backup or to get at the beach. This was going to be a hell of a story. We were 199 against an unknown number of cops.


I returned to the water source to pass me some fresh water on my head and to be alone to be able to think in peace. When I was about to leave, I noticed a small group of men in white spying on me hiding behind some trees. At first, they though I was a Vagos. On second thought, they told me that there were small group of Aztecas and Vagos scattered around Whetstone and Flint County. I proposed them to join us at one condition; if I would help them to reunite with the others Aztecas and get rid of the Vagos. They also informed me of the Leone Mafia Family having a Hideout on the wets side of Mount Chilliad.


I phoned to the others to tell them to wait until night before attacking. After I told them that and told the Aztecas to wait here until night, I returned to the cabin and slept.


At night, I left to get to the Aztecas. Before leaving, I told them to get in position and to wait for a light signal before launching the assault. I saw them cleaning their guns in a water source to the left of the one I used before. They saw someone coming and ran to the trees. It was Rifa. He was carrying a crate. He told me that he bought some Satchel Charges, Molotov’s, SMGs and Desert Eagles for only $462.67. I took one of each and told him to get back to the others.


After I told them my plan, they quickly ran to the nearest location of a group of Aztecas. We reached the road, quickly crossed it, for me, only at this moment, to realize they were hiding in the Junk Yard. We managed to find them only to learn a bad new; the cops had docked and landed police officers around the Junk Yard. When I learned that, I told them to follow me and started to run towards Angel Pine where there was an “entrance” to climb up the mountain.


We reached a puzzling kind of puzzle, higher in the mountain. There were two ways; one going higher and one continuing on the same “floor”. Making two groups, one for the way going higher and one for the other one, we separated us.


Both of the ways seemed connected since I could see the other group below me. Unfortunately, for me, I slipped down all the way to where the others were. A few meters away from me, a cabin, looking similar to mine, was there, with some light in it, with some men in black. One of them approached me and asked why we were on a Leone Mafia Family territory. I told the others to get down. For them, fortunately, they slide down instead of slipping down.


As an answer to his question, I told him we were looking for them. That we needed their help. He leaded us inside and we had to explain the situation with the police. This, even if it could be bad for them, did not convince them. They were about to kick us outside and I needed to act fast. They were 42 and we were 30. I didn’t want a useless fight so I had to tell them that it could be bad for them. That, even if they were Mafioso, convinced them.


One of them approached us. He presented himself as Toni Ciprianni and as the leader of the Mfia in Whetstone. After a couple of minutes of explanations on how to find two groups of Leone Mafia guys, on containing ten guys and the second one twenty, he called them to inform them about us.


After a few minutes, we heard some helicopters passing. Then some shoots and a dying scream. I looked through the window to see the S.W.A.T. getting out of these copters and shooting at the Leone guards.


We all took cover inside and started shooting at everything moving outside.



For my part, my name is T-Bone Mendez. I had followed my son all the way to Shady Creek but lost him when they left for the attack on Angel Pine.


I was trying to find a spot to watch the battle but I had found better; twenty Aztecas. They accepted to be my bodyguards as long as I would help them to find the other ones. One of them told me a good new. D-Bone was still alive and headed to the west with some Aztecas in seek of the help of the help of the Leone Mafia Family.


Because of the darkness, the Los Santos police took us for people fleeing from Angel Pine. We made our way to the street and followed it until we were on a bridge near the Los Santos Inlet. On the other side of it, walking towards us was a big group. The group happened to consist of Aztecas. One of our group said they were from the groups C and D.


They informed us that if we made our way down the freeway we would find four groups of Vagos. We, after one hour, found a Motel. I phoned for some backup. Twenty guys, in fact. They arrived with Jet Packs. Silently, they planted Satchel Charges on each structure and the Aztecas detonated it. From the screams, I calculated 50 Vagos. The other group of Vagos quickly arrived. We just had to throw Molotov’s at them and it was finished.


One of the Aztecas saw their stolen cars. They entered them and we headed to Angel Pine.



Everything seemed lost. That’s what we thought until we heard a helicopter crashing. I looked through the window to see some guys of our gang assisted by some Leone Mafia wise guys. They came with Sentinel’s and Stretch’s.


With the fire power of their Micro SMG, AK-47 and Desert Eagles and our flying team, we got rid of the shooting team, the copters and the action team. None of our helpers died but for us… It was another story. From the 29 Aztecas that were with me, 17 of them survived. From the 42 mafioso that were kind of living here, only Toni Ciprianni and 24 of them survived.


Before I could hear any explanations, I was piloting a Jet Pack straight to the Trailer Park in Angel Pine.



We were pinned down in the Trailer Park. Everything seemed lost until we saw explosions all round us. My son had arrived just in time…




Loco Syndicate - Big Smoke's Crack House

Chapter Five – Two Loco Syndicate Members Histories - Part. 4

May 26, 1991 – 23:01


“D-Bone!” yelled my father.


“Father?” I asked, “What are you doing here?” surprised.


“I followed you since the beginning!” he yelled, “And now, you make me regret it and make me regret having promoted you to a leader of the San Fierro Rifa!”


“It’s not me…” I mumbled, “It was Rifa’s decision…”


“Who?” he said, more calm.


“Ole Rifa.”


“What? This traitor is still alive?”


I just had the time to say, “Yeah”, before he stopped me.


“Anyway. I have a mission for you. Go back to San Fierro at Doherty. Hum… With a Jet Pack… And, take some guys to pay a little visit to the Grove Street Families gang members in Wang Cars. Some of them have been shooting our best veteranos. I want you to make them pay, for it. Kill them! Especially, the puta who sold is car showroom to them. After that, just seize the building and the kill the other ones in the streets. These guys are usually seen at the three towers.”


“And the police.”


“Don’t worry; we will handle them until you come back.”


I quickly returned to my Jet Pack and piloted it back to San Fierro. In the sky, I could perfectly see the damages and the death made by this fight. It was horrible and I wouldn’t like to be the one to clean this.


When I arrived at the Crack Lab in Doherty, some Grove Street gangsters were having a brawl with some of our veteranos and bejines. I landed inside the Lab yard and ordered that the gate get open. I walked to where the brawl was and yelled to my guys to get near me. When tey saw me, they ran away back into the Crack Lab yard.


It was me against them. Quickly, they attacked me as a group, with their Baseball Bats. They attacked me a second time but I pulled out my SMG, right after.


“You know what it is?” I asked them.


One of them thinking he was intelligent said, “A submachine gun”, proudly.

“Idiota! That’s a SMG!” I yelled, “If I press the trigger, you are all dead meat!”


They walked back a little bit. More friendly, “But, we can arrange us. We can deal for your life’s”, I added.


“Oh yeah? How?” asked, the muscular one.


“You pay me $285.77 for 3.5 grams of SPANK and return back to Los Santos.


They all checked in their pockets. The four of them had $285.77 straight. I gave them the SPAK and they ran to their Greenwood parked on the other side of the street. With them out of the game, we could finally get to work.


I took 30 guys and told them my plan. One of them would go on the top of the crane in the construction site in Doherty with a Sniper Rifle, me and seven guys would attack by the main entrance, eight of them would attack by the backyard entrance. Another group of eight would jump form the freeway into the showroom backyard to outflank them. The five others, would do Jet Pack rounds above the war zone and shoot at the gangsters.


The chosen sniper flew to the top of the crane and called me. He had a good new and a bad new. He had a good visibility of them but they seemed to know what we were preparing. They had made roadblocks and were shooting at some of our veteranos who were walking nearby.


We jumped in our Stallion’s and made a roadblock near their. Four Greenwood’s were blocking the way, leading to more roadblocks. Team C was, already, in position but had a fight with some Grove Street boys blocking the freeway.



First of all, my name is Enrico Gonzalez. I was a veteranos at the time and I really liked my job. I was 28 years old, this day, and my birthday was the day after tomorrow.


We were hiding behind our cars, being outnumbered. This was a 32 versus 8 death match. Even if they had only 9mm’s, we could barely shoot. My partner, Frederico Gomez, lost his nerve, after two minutes ad shot three bullets of his Desert Eagle. The results were pretty satisfying; a headshot, a gut shot and a gas tank shot.


The explosion of the car made another car explode, killed the one who had the gut shot shot and five others of these putas. This, because it made them run away of the cars, gave us the opportunity to shoot and to throw Molotov’s and Satchel Charges at them. With this luck, the fight was a 27 versus 8 battle.



For me, my name’s Ricardo Diez and I was 33 at the time. I was a bejines. This was my first day in the gang and I had to do this. I was in team B.


Team A was to our left and a man was yelling orders. When a Greenwood exploded and made the three others explode, we quickly returned to our cars and started the plan. I follow my group to a roadblock, on the street leading to the back of the showroom.



I was sniping some Grove Street boys when I felt a strange pain in my stomach.



I only had to turn around to know why our sniper stopped shooting. He had been shot, by a lucky shooter, and was falling down.


“I said, “Rest in peace, amigo…” looking down.



When one of my partners pointed our falling sniper, I knew, even if they were just gangsters, that they had skilled shooters. The fight had greatly changed because of him. We had lost one of our mates and these putas had been reduced to 19.



My team and team B had finished off the roadblocks and were waiting for team C and the Jet Pack team to act to that we could break in into the parking…




Loco Syndicate - Big Smoke's Crack House

Chapter Six – Two Loco Syndicate Members Histories - Part. 5

May 27, 1991 – 02:57


We heard explosions coming from the back of the showroom and heard seven more guns shooting in the parking, just as the Jet Pack team arrived. We managed to push them back and into the building.


The glasses were bulletproof. We only had two options left. We could explode the windows and the door and risk that the building collapse or try to find another entrance.


We tried to make them burn with Molotov’s, make them explode with Satchel Charges and ramming our cars into them to see that they were also fireproof, explosion proof and destruction proof.


I couldn’t believer it. The building had the four types of proof protection. We had only one option left. We needed to find another way in.


I was in the parking zone back of the showroom when I saw Ole Rifa with three Grove Street guys with him in a Greenwood racing towards the highway.


I quickly ran inside the garage before the door closed. I was alone in the dark but not for long. I heard someone walking in my direction and hided under the car to my right. By the way he was talking to two of these Los Santos gang members; I knew it was the guy my father wanted me to kill. Mister Wang.


I shot the three of them to the dead and pressed a switch that opened the garage door. Surprisingly, they didn’t hear a single thing. Everyone entered and we killed them all by surprise.


Now, we only had to deal with the remaining ones hanging in the streets…




Loco Syndicate - Big Smoke's Crack House

Chapter Seven – Two Loco Syndicate Members Histories - Part. 8

May 27, 1991 – 07:45


We unlocked the door to let some of our guys dump the dead bodies somewhere and planned our last attack. This would be the start of a war with them. On the 29 that attacked the building, only 17 of them had survived.


All of a sudden, Aztecas and some Rifa arrived with my father. I knew something had happened. He walked to me and asked the others to go inside. He told me that on the 199 Rifa and the 37 Aztecas that only 27 of each gangs had survived.


At this moment, someone from our ‘vario in King’s arrived. He had two new for us; a good one and a bad one. The bad one; the remaining resistance had gathered up and planned an assault on us. The good one; had had, with him, 14 guys to help us.


We were 60 and we had 27 Aztecas to assist us. They were 56. My father thought that it would be an easy battle but he was wrong. It was going to be difficult.


We positioned our guys, in a way, to cover the most of the stronghold. Seven guys were on the Pay n’ Spray. Three with Sniper Rifles, one with some Molotov’s and three with SMGs. 14 on the showroom roof with the same weapons as those on the Pay n’ Spray roof. Everyone else was positioned around the parking with Desert Eagles, SMGs and Molotov’s.


Some of our guys had filled with gas the streets, the parking and the building as well as the Pay n’ Spray. They made it only for the exterior of the showroom. The attackers arrived just as we finished these tasks.


Three hours after the fight had started; we were caught in our HQ for this war. The cause; the fire we had set with the gas and the Molotov’s.



From the skies, piloting my Jet Pack, I was attracted by a huge square of fire burning the whole area near Wang Cars showroom. I waited for the fire to cease to approach. It seemed that the San Fierro Greens, like I used to call them, had lost Wang Cars showroom to the San Fierro Blues’ and that they launched an attack to take it back. 69 Greens’ had died, in the burning trap they went into, out of 113.


Somehow, after the fire got exhausted, they managed to open the door. We had no other choice than to destroy the stairs. One of my guys installed a Satchel Charge on it. We had nothing to fear, for now. I took a Molotov and launched it on the first floor and they all burned.


Unfortunately, the Aztecas had betrayed us and they had pushed down 27 of our guys who were looking down at them. Some of them, going too fast, slipped down. We shot the others. I waited a little bit before realizing we had won the battle.



For my part, I was not the only one, looking at this fight, in the sky. I was the leader of a secret set of the San Fierro Rifa. I was the leader of the Whetstone Rifa and my name was…

Edited by Secronom President
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General Scrotum


I guess I could be staff as well if you want the help



Edit: I'll tell you now though, you're missing Part 4

Welcome in the staff. icon14.gif If you want, you can rate right now. Not expanded rates but some easy rates like just giving the cash or whatever. It is your choice.


I just messed up with the numbers.

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General Scrotum


Eh if I rate stories then I do it extensively and thoroughly.  I'll get on it.

Alright. Like I said in my edited post (the one above yours), it is your choice.


Once again, welcome among us.


EDIT: (New chapters) tounge2.gif

I know that's a lot.



Loco Syndicate - Big Smoke's Crack House

Chapter Eight – One of Them Was in the Army - Part. 1

July 29th, 1991 – 15:32


It was, since one month and two day, that I fled the army mentality to a Hispanic gang enemy to the Northern Mexicans or what they call eses from San Fierro and enemy to the Los Santos Vagos, a Western Mexican gang. The Varrio, when they are called by their diminutive name or by their surname, like the Aztecas says or even Aztecas as another surname, are the Southern Mexicans of the San Andreas State. They are, since their young age in Mexico or when they're born in their proper neighborhoods, trained to kill and inserted in the mentality to kill the Northern and Western Mexicans. There are rumors that a Eastern Mexican gang would arrive soon and they were allies but no one, even the most poor of those, anti-narcotic or as they prefer, anti-drug gang, gangsters want to confirm if the rumor is true or false. I was like them, I was an anti-narcotic guy. They don't even want to give a little clue even if they can get a whole load of cash only for a true or for a false. It was surely to protect their plans or to protect themselves or the Eastern Mexican gang I supposed for a moment trying to see through the big boss plans which in gang mentality they called their boss OG's.


My true name is Jason Flyll but since the incidents at the shack in North Rock I changed it to a Hispanic name. I changed my name to a Hispanic one and joined a Hispanic gang because I looked, a little bit, like a true one. The leader, Cesar Vialpando, who was a good friend of my father in the old times, accepted, without any hesitation, my presence into the gang. He even proposed me to be his bodyguard and, at the same time, to live in his house. At first, I declined his offers but he convinced a few days later to accept those offers which would basically make me think I was in the army. I nearly forgot to tell you what my new name was. My new name was Corales Holmes. Only Cesar did knew my true identity and the reasons why I joined the Aztecas and all the rest.


When I first arrived, one month and two days ago, he had a pregnant wife of nine months. His wife was Kendle Johnson. She was half Aztecas and half Grove Street, another anti-narcotic gang, because her three brothers; Carl, Sweet and Brian, who have passed away in 1987, were and are still Grove Street members. That was another proof of their close alliance and that meant that if one of them got attacked or was about to be attacked the other gang would come to help them risking their lives for people not of their gang. Now, they had two kids; a boy and a girl. The boy name’s was Santiago Vialpando and the girl’s name Kenny Johnson.


In my mission of being a bodyguard, I had to protect them; the boy, the girl, the mother and the father. Each of them had one month and two days. Their ages were special to me since it was the same amount of time I had joined Cesar’s Varrio boys. As a bodyguard of the kids, I was a sort of caretaker for them when their parents were away. I had also to play with them as well as being on my guards all the time. That was a cool life. The coolest life I had since I quitted my parent’s house to go to university. I sure enjoyed being in the army. Well, I enjoyed the flashbacks I had of when I was in the army. But those were old souvenirs now. The past was the past. We must not take care of it. It is not important. The future is the thing we must take care of. We never know where it leads. Only our acts and paroles decide of what will happen of us.


I had kept some bad souvenirs of being in the army too. The death of Djae, the death of all those poor soldiers when I was the main target, the treason of General Manning, his death, how my son made me his goodbye, the four words e told me; Red Mercury, project and virus. Plus one thing I will never forget; our way out of our cell helped by this BJ and how he didn’t wanted us to know his identity.


The only thing from my family I brought to Cesar and Kendle’s kids was the song I sand to my son and that was sang to me when I was a kid. I had written it on a little paper for Kendle for when I would not be around. The song was Japanese but still… On this little paper, I had written the lyrics of it. On the other side of the paper, I had written it in English for Kendle and in Spanish for Cesar.


This is the Japanese version;








This is the English version;




Child of Prayer

Bring us peace

For all time”


This is the Spanish/Mexican version. Esto ser Español/Mejicano traducción;




Niño de la Oración

Trae la paz

Para todos los tiempos”


I didn’t know why I told this song to them. Was I jealous? Was I happy for them? I would maybe never know the true answer. One thing was sure; it would be carried to the next generation of the Vialpando’s family and of the next generation of the Johnson’s family. They said, my family, that this song had special powers when it was sung by someone from the Flyll family. I was the last of them. Apart my son named Steve or whatever. I forgot his name because of my amnesia which was still present.


I was not into the business affairs of the gang or the deep affairs of the gang but Cesar wanted me to. I knew he was the boss, but I was not a gangster… yet. One night, while I was sleepy, he talked me about a guy that was searched around the state who got a bounty on his head posted by the BUYSAG Corporation which was in control of the state apart from some stuff classed top secret. I had accepted the mission he proposed me. I was going to go to Bayside Marina in Tierra Robada to get all the information’s about a guy named Allen McDermott. The guy value was $8500 alive and $4250 dead. It’s where it all started...




Loco Syndicate - Big Smoke's Crack House

Chapter Nine – One of Them Was in the Army - Part. 2

July 29th, 1991 – 09:43


I was driving in my Savanna with Shell and Blackman. I found them hanging around Unity Station when I quitted El Corona safe zone. They were shouting at some stinking pedestrians like they said. They had really grown since the last month. Shell had a beard and has learned to speak Spanish in only two weeks. Blackman got so much muscular that when someone was arguing with him, he was always winning. For them, quitting the army was a good thing. I told them about the mission I took. Obviously, they seemed a little surprised to see me take a mission for a gang. I told them that I was sleepy when I accepted the bounty mission but they didn’t seem to want to believe me. Maybe it was because of their experience of seeing the monster inside me killing General Manning? Maybe they though that I wanted to kill again? Maybe they were sleepy even if we were in the morning around seven o’clock? I might never know this too but that was not important to my eyes right now. I had to bring the $8500 to Cesar’s or I would have a punishment that they give to enemy gang members.


Around San Fierro, we saw a big AT-400 coming from the South-West going to the North-East. I continued to drive to Bayside Marina with my two companions listening to country, rap and rock music. I had really liked the song called I love a rainy night from Eddie Rabbit and the one from the Desert Rose Band named One step forward. Shell never wanted to say us what song he liked the most. Blackman said that he liked the all. When we arrived, I drove the nearest parking and walked with them to the building with the BUYSAG Corporation sign on it.


In the building it was so fresh that I thought I would get sick. The building was black and white as well as the clothes of the workers. We told the receptionist about the bounty and waited a few minutes. In those few minutes, we looked all around curious and fascinated. When a man arrived, wearing, him too, black and white clothes, he made us a sign to follow him. We’ve made it right away.


In his office, we sat and he asked us what we were there for.

“Holmes, we’re for the bounty on Allen McDermott,” I said with a Mexican tone.

“Ok, you know that he’s always coming to San Andreas on an AT-400? That he’s always landing at Las Venturas International Airport? That a limo takes him to an unknownlocation?” he asked without stopping a second.

“Yeah, puta, we know it ese!” yelled for no reasons Shell at our great surprise which attracted the attention of all the other workers to us.

“Calm down, puto,” said Blackman.

“Sorry, he’s just speaking too fast,” he apologized getting his head down.

“Can we get the briefing, holmes?” I asked him looking at the time. It was ten o’clock of the morning.

“For sure,” he answered me nicely passing me a paper. It had all the information on it. We quitted the building, got in my car and drove to Las Venturas. The paper had it to say;


“The bounty, Allen McDermott, an ancient gang member for the Russian Mafia, is wanted for the kill of the wife of the executive president of BUSAG Corporation. He’s wanted alive preferably and is waving $8500. He is known to go to a secret place after he’s out of his plane. We suspect three places where he could hide with his new Russian friends. A room at the V-Rock Hotel, an old hut out of Las Venturas in North Rock and somewhere in Fort Carson in a motel. He’s heavily guarded and must not be underestimated. The best…”


I could not read anymore since it stopped here. We’ve got ourselves an incomplete briefing paper. I was raging but my rage stopped when I saw the same AT-400 from before approaching Las Venturas airport. I then pressed the gas and drove like a racer to the airport.




Loco Syndicate - Big Smoke's Crack House

Chapter Ten – One of Them Was in the Army - Part. 3

July 29th, 1991 – 09:43


In my Savanna, racing at full speed, toward the airport, we saw some limousines going to it with some other cars full of Russians bodyguards. I knew there wasn’t much time so I pressed the gas harder and we arrived just in time to see him get away in one of the limousines. We trailed him to a motel in Fort Carson. We took a chamber next to his and tried to think of every ways possible to get him to follow us. There were three potions. The first one was to go in his room and kidnap him. The second one was to convince him that his Russians friends wanted to sell him out to the cops and the last one was that one of us took the role of the limousine driver and drove him to Marina Bayside.


We agreed to the second choice, only to see, that Allen McDermott would believe us. We killed all the other Russians and drove to Marina Bayside. On our way, a lot of Russians tried to ambush us, only for the fourth group to success, so we had to get to him again. We followed them until The Strip at Las Venturas to see we lost the track of them. We asked over to some pedestrians if they saw, passing by a gold limousine. Everyone said no. It was not our lucky day, at all.


We were on the Julius Thruway North when we saw it again. We rammed on its side a couple of time. After the fifth try, we rammed it off road and it flipped over. Shell quickly extracted McDermott out of the car and dragged it in our Savanna. By the time, cops had arrived. It was our turn to get rammed. But this time, there were no Russians involved in it. It was only some stupid police officers with their badges against us. That was what we though for a couple of minutes. Out of nowhere, arrived five Russian Mafia, heavy-loaded, cars with guys ready and highly trained to kill any idiota messing with them.


“Damn, ese! We’re forced to take the off road exit!” yelled Blackman shooting the Russians eses hiding at the same time.

“Good idea,” I replied him calmly ready for the sand impact since we were about to enter the desert of Bone County.

“Drive faster JF” said Shell helping his friend.

“That’s what I’m trying, puto!” I yelled this time high enough to scare the mobs.

“Hahaha!” laughed Shell and Blackman at the same time still shooting at them.

“What?” I asked them wondering if I missed something.

“Nothing… Nothing…” they tried to say without any laugh still having a big smile in their faces.

“Hey, puta, don’t try to mess with me!” I yelled to them not a mood to laugh anymore.

“Sorry! Sorry!” they apologized as we approached Tierra Robada.

“What now!” I yelled again seeing the f*cking sh*t in front of us.


A few meters in front of the car were three cars full of Russians and three cars full of Ballas dope pushers. We tried to pass through at full speed but they shoot at us on sight. They really wanted McDermott I though at this moment.


Before I could do anything, a bullet coming from the Ballas guys, hit my heart and I died. Well, fainted would be more appropriated since I woke up a few hours later in a old village in ruins made of old rocks.


“Where are we?” I asked to McDermott.

“In a little village up the little road in the mountain near Las Barrancas,” he said looking at Shell and Blackman pretty wounded. I then fainted again.


The other day, late in the night, a BUYSAG Corporation helicopter arrived to extract us which seemed to surprise Allen. He hesitated to climb aboard the Cargobob and after a few seconds he had came aboard. We headed right to Bayside Marina to deliver him.




Loco Syndicate - Big Smoke's Crack House

Chapter Eleven – One of Them Was in the Army - Part. 4

July 30th, 1991 – 23:13


In the chopper, we sat on some cold bench and profited of the fresh air to relax a little bit before arriving at Bayside Marina at the BUYSAG Corporation base. The good new was; we were close, and the bad one; we started to get attacked by some Russians with military helicopters, which I supposed they stole, and Rocket Launcher, which I supposed they stole too. We stood in the air for five minutes when the helicopter started going in flames. I parachuted, followed by McDermott, Shell and Blackman and the pilots. When we touched the ground, we were Los Quebrados behind the Sheriff police station. We entered it, and by chance, there were no cops in it. We barricaded and waited the waves of attacks. There was only one exit and it was the only way to get in. As we heard the door starting to open, to my surprise, I had a flashback of my mom. She was dead and she was a Russian. I didn’t want to kill them anymore so I tried to negotiate our way out. The negotiation were successful as we quitted a few hours later, weapons ready, just in case, expecting to be ambushed or attacked, or even assassinated. We walked our way back to Bayside Marina which took at least three hours. We took him inside and we got the pay, and even more surprising, they gave him to us. The pilot and the co-pilot stayed at the BUYSAG Corporation base and we headed to El Corona at Cesar’s house happy to show him we passed the mission with a little bonus.


When we arrived, Cesar and some Aztecas, were waiting for us armed heavily with a crate with the sign of cash on all of its side.


“Hey hombre!” yelled one of Cesar’s veteranos called Hazer.

“What you want?” I asked to him and then looking to Cesar.

“Corales, I know the mission was a success and all. But…” he started to say.

“But what holmes? Did I make something bad?” I asked curious and a little bit nervous looking at all those guys looking ready to shoot to any strange moves.

“I must ask you to quit us Holmes,” he said lowering his head, surely sad.

“Why? Has it something to do with my age?” I joked to him not smiling at all.

“No! It’s just that I want you to create the Eastern Mexican gang, the rumors were speaking of…” he said.

“Alright hombre, I’ll do it…” I started to say when Shell interrupted me.

“No! We will do it,” he said ready to go.

“Good bye then. Good luck,” all of the Aztecas said.

“I will take mister Dermott with me too,” I said looking at him with a smile.

“Okay holmes. Just make sure to be careful,” said Hazer instead of Cesar.

“Oh and…” started to say Cesar sadly.

“What?” we asked at the same time.

“Can you take my son and my girl with you? Don’t ask any questions. Just take them with you. Kendl approved my choice,” he asked giving me information which was not useful.


Before someone else could say something he made us a sign meaning to quit as quickly as possible El Corona which we did right away.




Loco Syndicate - Big Smoke's Crack House

Chapter Twelve – One of Them Was in the Army - Part. 5

July 30th, 1991 – 08:18


As we quitted El Corona, Cesar in a hurry, with his Savanna, reached us and gave us the crate with the cash sign on it. He explained that it was containing $8000 of the $8500 we received for capturing Allen McDermott. He said to use it carefully and that today would be the big occasion to use it because a drug dealer from the Russian Mafia was selling one Gram of Crsytal Meth for $90 which would give profits of $140, one Ball of Crystal Meth, which is 3.5 Grams, for $250 which resulting in a $490 profit when sold, Half-Ounce of Crystal Meth, which in gram is 14 Grams, for $580 for a selling of $900 plus two other high-priced buy and high-priced selling ones that were rare to find and rare to cultivate. An Ounce, which is 28 Grams, of Crystal Meth for the medium price of $4700 for somehow big profits of $9000 and one Pound, which when we calculate it, is 448 Grams or 16 Ounces for the price of $8000 for a high profit of $13500. He recommended us to buy the one at $8000. Shell was not approving this choice, Blackman was approving at one hundred percent and McDermott was not sure if he was okay or not with all those choices. He said that he found us a drug which is sold under $200 by the Vice City Love Juice drug dealers who have created a new gang called the Cuban Flames in San Fierro. He even added that the Cuban Flames were a sub-gang of the Cubans of Vice City which I though was true. The drug was a Gallon of Love Juice, which is 4 Litres, a drug plant that they melt and that we can only find in Vice City since the climate is hot enough to allow plantations of it and plantation workers to earn some money for a whole load of reasons like helping their families or to keep the cash for themselves, etc... It’s good for Vice City economy too, when we think about it. After a hand shaking period and a good bye period, he said to sell them when we would need it the most.


We were about to leave again when he stopped his car in front of mine. He forgot to give us $1000 to start up our gang. I knew I would use about $500 of it since the Cuban Flames received $1000 to start up their gang but finished to have $500. After some thinking, which was mostly what I’ve done the whole last two days, I came to the conclusion that this day would be a “book-keeping” day. In other words, I though to myself again, a day of cash surely full of surprise either good or bad. I was starting to drive again ready to stop my car again just in case Cesar forgot something. Just like I thought, he forgot something. He arrived with Santiago and Kenny and gave them to me. The car was full as hell. The trunk was full of cash. The seats were full and we had two passengers more than the car allowed us plus we had a Gallon of Love Juice in the trunk and we were about to buy a Pound of Crystal Meth which we would put in the trunk too. The road to find a good location to set up the gang would be a long one. I just hopped that the cops would not inspect our car because we would be in trouble. We headed to the Atrium which I had the feeling we would find the drug dealer.


When we arrived, fearing to look suspect enough for the cops to take on an interest on us, I parked the car in the back parking and asked them to wait in the car while I would go with the cash and buy the drug. I entered the Atrium which had a nice atmosphere with its fresh air. I looked over and saw only some Russians talking to random people or hanging with other Russians. I investigated over when I attracted somebody attention.


“ЭЙ смотрите!” he said meaning “Hey look”.

“Этот парень!” another one said drawing the attention of all of them towards me.

“Yes, I am the guy,” I said in English to see they didn’t know what I meant.

“И вам сказать, что он является русский?” said another one meaning, “And you say he is Russian”.

“Моя мать была российской и мой отец Мексики. Поэтому я русского и Мексики. Поскольку я живу в Сан-Андреас давно уже, то я думаю, я говорят на английском языке,” I replied to him saying I was speaking Mexican since my father was Mexican, that I was speaking Russian since my mother was one and that I was speaking English since I was living in San Andreas since a long time.

“Вы убили многих русских при выполнении миссии на BUYSAG корпорейшн ",” he said angry because he though I killed all the Russians for the BUYSAG Corporation while trying to capture Allen.

“Я не Убивают русские, на всех. Это было в других странах,” I replied to him meaning that I killed no Russians at all.

“And what do you want?” said someone seaming to be their leader.

“I want to buy a Pound of Crystal Meth,” I replied to him trying to find who he was since I knew I saw him somewhere else.

“Ok. I’m Andrei the leader of the Russian Mafia in Los Santos. You’re really the son of your mother and of your father,” he said looking at his guys in their eyes meaning to continue their occupations.

“Holmes. Corales Holmes. What do you know about my father and my mother?” I asked him curious to know more about them.

“They were both in the army then your father quitted to go in the Varrios Los Aztecas and your mother joined us,” he said looking at a man with a briefcase.

“Wow! I never expected that!” I exclaimed to myself loudly to attract everyone looks to me.

“Our drug dealer, Vladimir Smirnof, will give you all the details about your buy,” he said proudly getting away right after.

“Hola chico,” I said, “I know all the prices. Just show me the drug”.

“Da,” he said, “The client is always right. This is my motto”.

“Show me the Crystal Meth. I am interested, especially, by a Pound of Crystal Meth,” I said showing him the crate I carried all over.

“К счастью, мистер,” he said meaning “Ok, mister”.

“I have the $8000 needed in the crate just over here,” I said pointing it again.

“восемь тысяч долларов,” he said meaning “Eight thousand dollars”.

“Da,” I simply said.

“Okay, here is the Meth,” he said handing me another briefcase which I didn’t notice until now.

“This is good doing business with you Vladimir,” I said with a smile shaking his hand like a true business man.

“Shoukran,” he said meaning “Thank you”.


When I exited the Atrium by the back, which was the door I used to enter, I quickly reached the car and jumped him. I putted the Pound of Meth in the trunk before though. I started the engine and drove around Los Santos to find that it was not a good location since it was too close to the Ballas, the Los Santos Vagos, the Orange Grove Street Families, the Varrios Los Aztecas and the Russian Mafia. I then drove to Red County. One place was interesting. The place was called Hilltop Farm. The others objected about Red County because they found the place too weird. Then, it was the turn of Flint County and Whetstone. Flint County was too small for them as well as Whetstone. The Mount Chilliad was interesting though. For San Fierro, they gave me a stupid reason. It was too full. Also I didn’t like the place because we didn’t know how the Cuban Flames were and there was the San Fierro Rifa, the San Fierro Triads and the Da Nang Boys.


We were about to run out of gas so I got to the Xoomer garage in Easter Basin and fuelled up the car and we headed to Tierra Robada. They found it too big and Bone County was too army-controlled for them. The last place we tried was Las Venturas and we found the perfect spot even if the city was infested with Mafioso. The three Mafia families were the Leone Mafia Family, the Forelli Brothers and the Sindacco Family. The spot was the Last Dime Motel. Luckily, we found some empty rooms and made ourselves at home. Tomorrow, we would start to manage and create the gang called...

Edited by Secronom President
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Chapter 1:  $100 Compensation


Chapter 2:  $100 Compensation


Chapter 3:

Paragraph 5, "...but I was still to much for him" - should have used "too(but I was still too much for him)

Paragraph 6, "...hands as the pushed..." - you missed the 'y', I'm guessing


All in all though a gripping read.  With just a few errors, there were a few commas that I wasn't sure about.  $86


UNRATED69 earns a total of $286

(N.B. The TotW has changed)




Secronom President

Chapter 1:

Paragraph 1, "...the time to get my vengeance and, to prove my valor, once again." - No need for the comma between "and" and "to"

Paragraph 3,  "Everything seemed lost, when I got in the back of the car, until, all..." - No need for the comma between "car" and "until"

Paragraph 3, "...one of them felt to the ground." - fell*

In the talking dialogue I'm not sure if there are errors, or if that's just "gangsta talk" such as "the Purple Nines killed you parents but…”", So I'll let you off with it

Dialogue, "“You want me to grow there so..." - go*, surely.  Unless you're a plant of some description.

Dialogue, "“There’s another reasons too..." - It's either, "there are other reasons too" or "there's another reason too"

Cortez Dialogue, "...proposed me some Molotov" - "proposed to" or "suggested to"

Cortez Dialogue, "He wished me good luck and left." - You mean hung up?  I'll not penalise for this

Paragraph 9, "we counted to three and throw them through" - "counted" was past tense, so "throw" should have been past tense (ie. threw)

Paragraph 10, "I was in the group going upside" - upstairs*

Paragraph 10, "I had another plan, for them." - No comma necessary

Dialogue after Paragraph 11, "I have a business to..." - 'a' unnecessary.

Paragraph 12, "I pulled out the stranger out of his spot" - "I pulled the stranger out" or alternatively "I pulled out the stranger from his spot"

Paragraph 12, "the guy who had been" - Saying "the guy" implies he had been mentioned before.  I recall no occurrence of referencing a guy being killed by cops in your chapter, so it should be "a guy"

Paragraph 13, "Phil was burning like my parents had died." - "...burning like how my parents..."  (noun was vowel like simile - eg. "Phil was burning like a forest fire")  The wording makes it sound like your parents were alive, if you get my meaning?

Dialogue, "...The second good new is..." - news*

Dialogue, "We are going to San Andreas in San Fierro" - Other way around.  "San Fierro in San Andreas"



Quite a lot of mistakes, however it was also quite a long chapter.  Good descriptions of scenes.  $64



If it's okay with you, I'll leave the other chapters for now. Just note that Chapter 1 has been rated. Though you could take the time to proof read them again and fix any errors that might be there, SP




Unrated - $286

Secronom President - $64

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General Scrotum

It's too late to fix the errors since I got a PM from someone with my rates... ($431)


Anyway, you did a good job for your first rates. Congrats'! And, once again, welcome among us (the staff). icon14.gif


EDIT: I am still interested to know what you think of them, though.


EDIT 2: (Chapters just for you to rate).




Loco Syndicate - Big Smoke's Crack House

Chapter Thirteen – One of Them Was in the Army - Part. 6

July 31th, 1991 – 07:54


I was sitting down on my bed counting the cash we got and the drugs we got the other day, expecting to hear someone knock at my door. Blackman knocked at my door ten minutes later with a lot of papers. He gave them to me and departed my room without any words. I took a look at them to see he had already recruited ten Mexicans coming from the eastern regions of Mexico ready to help the gang the best they could. The papers contained information about them and the gang which he had wrote the whole night. When I looked more closely at them, I found that they were documents. Before I had the chance to read them, McDermott arrived wanting to tell me something that was important to him.

“You know about the drug we have?” he said talking of the Gallon of Love Juice.

“Yes, I know about it. Why do you ask me this question?” I asked him suspecting something from him, “You have an idea about them?”

“Yes. We could try to sell it to the Cuban Flames living in San Fierro,” he said trying to look intelligent.

“Why would they buy a drug that they are the makers at that they are the only one to import?” I asked him finding his idea weird and a little bit funny.

“We could say that the Gallon got stole and that if they want it back they must pay us the current price on the drug market,” he said proud of getting out of this little trap.

“That’s an easy guess,” I said to him getting harder on him, “Also, they would know if something in their stock would have been stolen.”

“Ok… Let say I proposed nothing…” he mumbled sadly, the head down, going to the door of my room, “I’m sorry having you loose your time.”

“It’s not important. You made the right decision by coming here to explain your idea,” I said trying to comfort him, “You’re a good guy”.

“Thanks boss. You are the best boss I ever had since I’m major,” he said with a tiny smile.

“Thanks… Hum… Who are those guys?” I asked him with a smile meaning I had a plan for them.

“John Husky, Lexma Sylex and Robert Collins are my previous boss if I don’t forget to mention my boss who is the captain of the police in San Fierro,” he said seaming to know what I was about to plan about them, “Two of them are living in the old Liberty City, one of them is living in Vice City and the last one have a house in San Andreas and another in the new Liberty City”.

“Liberty City, hum...?” I mumbled to myself, “They dare to call the city… Well, the cities Liberty City but there’s no liberty at all in those towns. The cops are here to prevent any kind of liberty or nearly all kind of liberty”.

“I never thought of that!” he exclaimed loudly, “I never came up with that theory about the old and the new Liberty City”.

“Can I say you something?” I asked him knowing that he could say that he would become a boss. He was a sub-boss of our gang and saying him that he would become a boss could make him be too much happy to come back to the reality.

“Yes. Between, I was not the kind of guy that my previous boss wanted to make confidences,” he said not to sure of what was happening.

“How would you like to be a boss?” I asked him knowing I touched a sensitive point.

“How I would like? I would like at one hundred ten percent!” he exclaimed happy and loudly.

“Ok. You will be one, when the time will come,” I said.

“Why? Heh… Forget what I said. Please,” he said nervous and sorry, “I’m sorry”.

“I don’t mind. If I was you, I would be curious,” I said shaking his hand meaning that we were partner.

He left my room with the biggest smile of the man history. I knew he would be one of the best and also one of the most naïve one. Here’s what the first one had to say:


“As you certainly know, our gang name is the Last Dime Motel Eses. Our property is the Last Dime Motel and we are in the city of Las Venturas. Our ethnic is Mexican, Russian, since you have Russian blood in your veins, and American for me, Blackman, Shell and McDermott, and we have some Brass Knuckles and some Moonbeams to use when we want. We have $570 stashed in our bank with a Gallon of Love Juice that we bought yesterday. Our allies are the Varrios Los Aztecas, the Orange Grove Street Families since they are allies with the Varrio and the Russian Mafia since their leader knew your parents and he seems to know more than what he’ll say. Our enemies, which I don’t like, are naturally the Los Santos Vagos, the Ballas and the San Fierro Rifa. The gangs with whom we are neutral are the San Fierro Triads, the Da Nang Boys, the Leone Mafia Family, the Sindacco Brothers, the Forelli Family and the newly-baptized gang, the Cuban Flames.


Our leader is you called under your Mexican name Corales Hombres alias Jason Flyll. The sub-leaders are Gastro Shell, me, Gast Blackman and Allen McDermott.


Our ‘hood is the Last Dime Motel area and it’s having, unfortunately, a low density of one and our hood color on the map is black. We have 16 gang members if we include ourselves plus Cesar’s kids. They will hang around in group of one to three and they will be wearing, we too, black tanks, olive pants, and black rags covering the mouth and black rags covering the head, the ears and the hair. As you surely guessed, our gang members’ colors are black and olive. Their activities are going to talk to random pedestrians and drivers to try to recruit them, driving around, hanging out, chilling and gathering information on potential, beneficial drug deals. If we have enough chances, we will be doing three drug deals a week. Their ages are from 17 to 49 and they are friendly a lot so our gang attitude is going to be friendly too.


Our most favourite radio station is K-DST and our most hated one is Radio Los Santos. The other radio stations we like are K-Jah West, K Rose, CSR, Radio X and SF-UR. The other ones we don’t like are Playback FM, Master Sounds FM and WCTR. The one that we don’t hate and that we don’t like, which means that this one is “medium”, is Bounce FM. I know that they will not respect this radio station rule since everyone listens to what they want depending of their mood, though.


Flames Ole, one of the youngest amongst us, is 19 years old. Even though he’s a rookie, he’s a good fighter not to be underestimated. He’s the younger brother of Oracles. He’s aged of 23 years and he is a good driver, even if he’s a rookie like his brother. Riches Muerda, 18 years old, he’s both good at driving and fighting. Mucho Muerde, aged of 36 years, Orales Oye, aged of 49 years and Odel Passo, aged of 47 years, are both good at driving, fighting and recruiting. Cesar’s cousin, Hazer Vialpando is aged of 17 years and he have to learn everything. That shouldn’t be trouble. Puesto Muerte, 29 years old, is the best joker amongst them. Ammigo Del Passo does anything he’s told to. He is aged of 18 years. Shell Blackman, 19 years old, old military soldier, sub-leader of the Last Dime Motel Eses is a close friend to Corales Hombres alias Jason Flyll and he is a good shooter. Me, Gast Blackman, his aged of 22 years and he’s a good gunner. Allen McDermott, recently purchased by the BUYSAG Corporation for kill of the wife of someone important about them, now sub-leader of our gang, is a good strategic man. Santiago Vialpando, the boy of Cesar Vialpando and Kendl Johnson, is aged of one month and three four days. Kenny Johnson, the girl of Kendl Johnson and Cesar Vialpando, is aged of one month and four days. Finally, you, Corales Hombres, called when in the army Jason Flyll or by those 29 other maniacs, number XXX, is a good strategic man, a good recruiter, a good driller, a good joker, a good shooter or gunner if you prefer, a good fighter, a good driver, a good pilot and a good boat driver, aged of 18 years. His parents were from different countries. His father was Mexican and his mother was Russian. They were both in the army and quitted it after some years, for his dad to join the Varrios Los Aztecas and his mom to join the Russian Mafia. Those are secret files I found when spying on the traitor, General Manning alias number XXVIII, computer while we were in the army. It seems that he is infected by the Red Mercury and a secret virus developed by the army while he was minor.


We have a criminal rating of 0% which is good and that means that we have a good relation with the local cops. In fact, we have the best relation with cops. The other gangs have some little problems with them.


Finally, our gang goals are to expand our gang out of this cul-de-sac, to be more powerful than the Varrios Los Aztecas, to become the kings of Las Venturas and to become rich, powerful and respected by everyone.


In this first document, you found all the information about our gang in overall. In the second one, you will find the information about the other gangs.”


I put the document in my desk near the window which was near the door to go outside. Then I sat down again on my bed and started to read the second one. Here’s what it had to say:


“The Orange Grove Street Families, the allies of the Varrios Los Aztecas and our allies at the same time, have been silenced over by the years by the drugs, some internal disagreements and their arch rivals, the Ballas. They are split in three sets named the Grove Street Families, the Seville Boulevard Families and the Temple Drive Families. The Seville Boulevard Families only have a small territory in south-east Los Santos named Playa Del Seville. The Temple Drive Families have territories in Temple and in Vinewood at the cemetery. There are rumours that the Temple Drive Families will split in two. The Temple territories would remain to the Temple Drive set and the Vinewood one would be to the Vinewood Street Families. There’s also the Santa Maria Beach hood controlled by the Orange Grove Street Families which seems to be a secret set. I would call them the Santa Maria Beach Families, for now. Finally, there’s the Grove Street Families who have their two main ‘hoods in Ganton which are attacked by Vagos or Ballas one time a day. Each days, they get weaker and the Ballas stronger. Their OG’s are Sweet, named Sean Johnson, Big Smoke, named Melvin Harris, Ryder, named Lance Wilson, and CJ, named Carl Johson. I suspect them to do normal jobs, robbery, Illegal Street racing and taking money from dead rival gangsters and drug dealers to earn money.


The Ballas are the arch enemy of the Orange Grove Street Families. They are split in four sets. The Temple Drive Ballas, hiding somewhere waiting to take over again Temple ‘hoods and maybe at the same time the Vinewood ‘hood at the cemetery which would surely create a new set for them called the Vinewood Ballas. The Rollin’ Heights Ballas which have their territories in Jefferson and Glen Park. The Front Yard Ballas which have their ‘hoods in Idlewood and East Los Santos. Finally, the Kilo Tray Ballas which have their territories in Willowfield. It seems they have secret set, just like the Orange Grove Street Families. This secret set is located in the Verona Beach ‘hoods. We know the name of two of their OG’s. One is named Kane and the other one is called by his OG named. His name is Lil Weasel. I would call them the Verona Beach Ballas, for now. I think that the Ballas are in the drug dealing, gang banging, prostitution, arms dealing, vandalism, cocaine trade, robbery and killing people to make cash.


The Los Santos Vagos occupy Las Colinas, East Beach and Los Flores. They are the sworn enemies of the Varrios Los Aztecas which make them our enemies. They are a Hispanic gang. There are rumours that theyr are going to split up too. One of those three sets would be the Las Colinas Vagos, another one would be the Los Flores Vagos and the last one the East Beach Vagos. I suspect them to do drug trade and weapons trade to earn some cash.


The Varrios Los Aztecas are a Latin street gang located in Unity Station, El Corona and Little Mexico. They are close friends to the Orange Grove Street Families and are sworn enemies of the Los Santos Vagos. Their veteranos, Cesar, Sunny, Gal and Hazer are the only four who keeps the gang still running. There are rumours, about them too, that they would split up in three sets named the El Corona Aztecas, the Unity Station Aztecas and the Little Mexico Aztecas. Gun running, street violence, things similar to the Orange Grove Street Families and maybe smuggling is what I suspect them to do to earn some cash.


The San Fierro Rifa is the Hispanic gang of San Fierro. They have territories in Cranberry Station, Doherty Garcia, King’s, Battery Point and a little ‘hood in the San Fierro Golf Club. Their leader T-Bone Mendez is involving them in drug trade, especially cocaine trade. Rumours are running about them too that they would split up in five or six sets. It will depend if they control the little territory mentioned above at the San Fierro Golf Club. If they control it, the set name for it would be approximately, the San Fierro Golf Club Rifa. One other would be the Garcia Rifa’s. Another one would be called the Cranberry Station Rifa’s. One other would be the King’s Rifa’s and the ones in Doherty would be called the Doherty Rifa’s. Finally, the last one would be called the Battery Point Rifa’s. It would not surprise me that they would be making drugs to earn money.


The Da Nang Boys, which is the Vietnamese gang of San Fierro, control the ‘hoods around the docks and the bay. They control Easter Basin and Esplanade North. Rumours are saying that they would split up in two sets. One called the Easter Basin Boys and the other one the Esplanade North Boys. They are at war with the local Triad named the San Fierro Triads. Their leader, who was killed in a cargo ship in the San Fierro bay, was bringing a massive number of Da Nang Boys to San Andreas. I suspect them to do smuggling, with their cargo ship, to earn cash and they have an interest in protection which is another way for them to make money.


The San Fierro Triads is known to be close allies to the Orange Grove Street Families and Varrios Los Aztecas. They have two great enemies. Their arch enemy, the Da Nang Boys and the three Mafia Families in Las Venturas called the Leone Mafia Family, the Sindacco Brothers and the Forelly Family. They are split in two sets called the Red Gecko Tong managed by Shuck Fu Ran Fa Li assisted by Su Xi Mu called Suzie and the Mountain Cloud Boys operated by Wu Zi Mu called Woozie. The Red Gecko Tong seems to have a sub-gang named the Blood Feather Triad. They operate in Las Venturas at the Four Dragon Casino but their main operations are in Chinatown. Their San Fierro ‘hoods are, naturally, Chinatown, Calton Heights and a little part in King’s. I suspect them to bet money, gamble money, earn money from their casino and use the money they stole at the Caligula’s casino to make some little extra cash.


The Leone Mafia Family have, like the Sindacco Brothers and the Forelli Family, a stack at the Caligula’s casino and is fighting for the casino control over two other families named the Sindacco Brothers and the Forelli Family. The Sindacco Brothers have an abattoir in White Wood Estates and want to be good friends with the Leone Mafia Family. Salvator Leone, the boss of the Leone Mafia Family, wants them to pay $5 000 000 or else there would be no alliance. Johny Sindacco, the son of the boss of the Sindacco Brothers, is the sub-boss of his family. The Forelli Family, which we don’t see the boss too often, especially in San Andreas, is only trouble for the Leon Mafia Family since they don’t seem to stop to send goons to kill Salvator Leone. Ken Rosenburg, which in 1986 was working for the Sindacco in Vice City, got caught in the job of being the guy in the middle of those three mobs families, right after getting out of his rehabilitation, and he’s fearing that one family hit one other to get attacked himself. I don’t envy him being a lawyer. Since they are Mafia, I guess they make Mafia things to earn cash.


The Russian Mafia, which its main activities are in Los Santos, is making business with the Ballas in the weapons trade. They are currently specializing into drug dealing. Their true leader which is not in San Andreas but in Russia right now the control of the Russians in the hands of a guy named Andrei. He seems to know a lot more about your parents than what he’ll say. Their drug dealer in chief, Vladimir Smirnof, is the right hand of Vladimir. They seem to be, somehow, allies to the Cuban Flames which I suspect to be a sub-gang of the Cuban gang located in Vice City which are specializing into the Love Juice selling.



In this second document, you found over all the information I could gather about the other gangs. In the third one, you will find places of interest were we could expand with its pros and cons.”


When I finished reading over the second document, I was surprised that he had done it in one night. I put this document in my desk, under the first one and started to read the third one but I was interrupted. The man who irrupted in the room followed by Shell armed wanted to talk to me.

“Mister Holmes or should I say Flyll?” said the stranger who seamed familiar.

“Yes. How did you know my true name?” I asked him saying to Shell right after, “Get out Shell. I don’t need you right now”.

“I am your son, dad,” he said when Gastro departed my room, “Hi”.

“Steve?” I asked, “Did you take care of number I?”

“Unfortunately not,” he said with difficulties, “They discovered the trick at the shack in North Rock and my identity”.

“That’s good to see you!” I exclaimed with a strange happiness, “I missed you these past months”.

“We must get ride of them, as soon as possible!” he exclaimed angry, “They must die for what they have done”.

“I know, I know. We will take care of them when the time will be appropriated,” I said trying to calm him.

“Do you have a plan?” he asked full of hope.

“Yes, I have one,” I said happy to see him full of hope and with a smile, “I will explain my plan to you tomorrow, though”.

“Good night, dad” he said walking towards the door.

“Good night, Steve,” I simply replied to him impatient to read the other document so that my reading session would finish.

When he departed my room, I took the document and started to read it hoping not to be interrupted. Here’s what the third one had to say:


“As you know, we are basically in a cul-de-sac in this ‘hood. We need to expand out of the Last Dime Motel. There’s a list of interesting place that we could buy or take over to expand with their pros and cons.


The first one would be beneficial in two ways. We could try to get a stack in the Four Dragon Casino. We would have expanded but we would have made one ally which is the only San Fierro gang present in Las Venturas. The gang I am talking about is the San Fierro Triads. Being their allies would mean that we would four more enemies. The Da Nang Boys, the Leone Mafia Family, the Sindacco Brothers and the Forelli Family as enemies would not be fun.

We could also expand in the ‘hood way in Rockshore West or into Randolph Industrial Estate. Expanding our territories in Rockshore West would be giving benefits like having a more great influence, allowing us to have more gang members, having a more large ‘hood to recruit people. The problem would be that it would attract the police attention towards us. Expanding in Randolph Industrial Estate would be a good occasion to be able to hide stuff like drugs and illegal things.


The last idea I have is to expand in Los Santos in the Town Hall. Expanding into Town Hall would have two benefices’ opportunities. We would be close to the commercial area and we would be close to Roboi’s Food Mart. The bad thing is that expanding there would approach us to the police since the police precinct in north-east of our zone of expand. The cop precinct is in Pershing Square.


This third document which was small explained to you my opinions of those interesting places. The fourth one will talk of some guys we could try to get in contact to recruit them.”


After reading this third document, bored as hell, I got even more bored when I did read that there was a fourth document. I putted the document under the two others and started to read this on. Here’s what this document had to say:


“As you know, we are currently low on cash and we have Cesar and Kendl’s kids with us. Here is a little list of people that you could contact to try to recruit them to help us greatly


Maxe Layne aged of 28 years is a weapon dealer that can arrange you weapons deals at a discounted price. He’s usually found walking around Prickle Pine or you can call him at 000-999-666


Marnia La’Costa aged of 19 years is a woman specializing into cars, bikes, boats, planes and helicopters deals. She can get you discounted price if you get in good terms with her. There are some rumors saying that everyone she got in good terms with never wanted to reveal what they did together. It makes some thinking. Another rumor says that she’s still waiting the guy that will be her big boss. It might be you? What I have to say is simple. Try your chance and see. She’s usually waiting for the man at the Last Dime Motel somewhere in one of these rooms or you can call her at 069-069-069. I think, personally, that her number phone explains itself, if you understand what I mean.


Bob Racklift aged of 45 years is a good guy to get in good terms when we want to have easy drug deals. He can get you discounted prices. It seems Cesar contacted him to buy the Pound of Crystal Meth. You can find in White Wood Estates or you can call him at 954-644-142.


Helen Wankin aged of 31 years has been into babysitter job for over ten years. We can say she’s a professional. You can find her in Rockshore West or you can call her at 555-704-747.


This was a little of useful people around Las Venturas. The fifth document.... Nah! I’m joking! There’s no document left at all. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask me, then.”


I was happy since I finally finished reading these documents. I hided it under the three others and someone knocked at my door. I opened it to see Shell, Blackman and McDermott waiting for me. I was about to open my mouth to say something when I saw something funny. The ten Mexicans were making some drills created by Shell and Blackman a little bit hardened by McDermott. I laughed loud enough to attract their attention. Shell and the two others made the same when the Mexicans stared at me with big eyes.


Then I heard and saw some trucks called Packers arriving to deliver us our Moonbeams and our Brass Knuckles we’ve been waiting for. The Moonbeams were painted black like Blackman asked to them at the cell phone and the Brass Knuckles too, to add some fantasy. We then stashed the weapons in my chambers’ wardrobe and parked the Moonbeams into the parking. Without any reasons, while I was walking up the stairs to go back to get some sleep, I slipped and my face touched the ground so hard that I fainted. When I woke up, I saw that my three guys were watching at me with a little thing in their eyes like if they feared something. I tried to get up only to fail my moves. McDermott and Blackman helped me to sit down and I asked them what happened. They simply answered me that I slipped and fainted which I saw on their faces was just a big lie. I didn’t insist though.


“How are the guys?” I asked them trying to change the subject and to calm the atmosphere.

“The guys?” asked Shell.

“The Mexicans Blackman recruited for us yesterday night while all of us were f*cking sleeping!” I yelled angry.

“They are doing pretty good. They found it a little bit strange that you fainted to a stair slip though,” said McDermott looking all over my room.

“Why do you look all over my room Allen?” I asked him like if he was an old friend to me.

“No reasons. Just looking what your room looks like. That’s all,” he said surprised I noticed what he was doing with a little bit of weirdness in is tone.

“Ok. Calm down. There’s no need to be nervous like that,” I calmly replied to him looking in his eyes sleepy.


I fainted again...



When I woke up three hours later, Blackman was waiting for me to wake up, with some documents and some clothes. He had already putted on the gang clothes he mentioned in the first document, the two others, Shell and McDermott, too plus the ten Mexicans. He gave me the clothes and got out the time I put them on and entered again when I asked him to. Then he gave me the documents. Once again, there was not only one of them. Those were more scientific documents that I supposed he made in the three hours I slept. One of them was less scientific but it seemed to be more like a diary than a document. There were some documents about the past. These were history or historical documents to be more precise. I picked the one that looked like a diary to see, at my great surprise, that it was the diary of General Manning alias number XXVIII. Here’s what the diary had to say:


“January 17, 1985


I am now a general in the army and I am enjoying being called General Manning. We’re trying to search some volunteers to make one or two experiments on them. My superiors also seam to fear a little group of terrorist growing up in numbers around Bone County and Tierra Robada.


January 23, 1985


We found someone, stupid enough, to accept to be used as an experimental subject. His name his Brian Johnson and he’s one of the OG’s of the Orange Grove Street Families. His OG name is BJ.


February 11, 1985


He leaved to go live in Vice City to see his cousin Lance Vance who’s known for his famous dance called the Lance Vance Dance.


March 23, 1985


He called us four minutes ago that he would come back in 1987. We have to for him then.


July 19, 1986


The terrorist group known to follow the Hitlerian theology and a little bit of the Roman old culture as grown enough to be able to attack the base. I must find a way to approach their leader.


September 27, 1986


We’ve been attacked by them near the Sherman Dam in a normal patrol after having been reported that some weird men were free roaming through the County.


December 5, 1987


Brian Johnson finally arrived from his trip to Vice City and rumors’ are saying he’s looking for us.


December 10, 1987


OG BJ is dead while we tried to insert in him the Red Mercury and the ZX103-5643-m²³ virus. We have to find a way to explain his death.


December 12, 1987


We have disguised some soldiers into Ballas and constructed a car named the Purple Burrito and dumped Brian’s body in Grove Street cul-de-sac.


This is the part one of my diary. If you want to know more, just look for them around San Andreas. Beware, that they are well defended, though.”


I now knew a little bit more about General Manning’s life. I wanted to know. I wanted to have all of the other diaries made by him. I knew that the letters “BJ” were not unfamiliar since I saw them somewhere. I putted in on my desk and started to read the first one containing scientific things and looking like a scientific one. It contained information about the Red Mercury. Here’s what this document had to say:


“The Red Mercury is a fictitious substance of uncertain composition used in the creation of nuclear and as variety of unrelated weapons systems. On the terrorist market, the prices for Red Mercury, which is lame imitation made by them with various red dyes or powders which have not a high value, is $500 000 per kilogram but before, the price ranged from $100 000 to $300 000. The substance has another name which is “oxide of Red Mercury”.


The researchers at the Los Alamos International Laboratory made some reports that this substance could anything that the Third World demagogue could want.


The Red Mercury is a super-conductive material used for producing high-precision conventional and nuclear bomb explosives, “Stealth” surfaces and self-guided warheads.


Some samples seized the police contained mercury oxide, mercury (II) iodide or mercury mixed with red dye only. In May 1984, the German authorities seized a Red Mercy sample which consisted of complex mixture elements, including 10% by weight plutonium with the remainder consisting of 61% of mercury, 11% antinomy, 6% oxygen, 2% iodine and 1.6% of gallium. A formula reported that the powder component of the mixture was Hg6Sb2O8, with some of the mercury present in its pure metallic form.


Another analysis made in 1988 with another sample of it reported that the Red Mercury was a non-radioactive mixture of elemental mercury, water and mercury iodide, which is a red colored chemical.


Another analysis of a sample found in Zangreb in November 1989 reported that it contained only mercury. They, then, came up with a new formula. The formula was Hg2Sb2O7, but no antinomy was detected in this sample.


Another substance was found, devoid of nuclear purpose, which was speculated to be mercury sulphide (cinnabar), mercury (II) iodide, mercury antinomy oxide (Hg2Sb2O7,), or any other red-colored compound.


In Great Britain, in 1990, two men named Kent Paul and Maccer, because they were suspected to be trying to buy one kilo of Red Mercury for £300 000. Those two guys are the ones who supplied the San Andreas army of the Red Mercury though. After this incident, the International Atomic Energy Agency made a statement dismissing claims that the substance exist for real.


A claim, supported by Samuel Cohen, the “father of the neutron bomb”, explained that the substance was a highly explosive chemical known as ballotechnic. He also claims that the Soviet scientist perfected the use of Red Mercury and used it to produce a number of softball-sized “pure fusions” bombs weighting as little as 10lb which is 4.5kg. According to Cohen, Dr. Frank Barnaby, a veteran nuclear weapon designer, conducted interviews with a Russian scientist who told him that the substance was produced by dissolving mercury antimony oxide in mercury, heating and irradiating the resultant amalgam and the elemental mercury through evaporation.


In Russia, the name “Red Mercury” is a code name to describe enriched Lithium-6 since the 1950s in the USSR nuclear weapons program.


This substance is described as a “highly pure rare-earth element” it is claimed to be the basis of a “structural bond energy release” (SBER) device. This technology, if you use two kilos of it, can give you a ten-kiloton explosion.

The Red Mercury is also said to be “a legendary alloy that reflects 100% of neutrons” and “an urban legend among scientists”.


This was a little scientific document of what is the Red Mercury.”


“Hey! I’m not a military scientist. I’m a military soldier!” I yelled.

“No you’re true but you’re not soldier too. You are a gang leader now,” he said.

“Ah... Sigh....” I sighed bored of reading.

“There’s a document I made about the Hitlerian theology and Roman old culture of the terrorist group and a document about the XZ103-5643-m²³ virus,” he said to get me even more bored.


I started to read the short document, which was really short, about the virus. Here’s what the document had to say:


“The XZ103-5643-m²³ virus is a virus invented by the scientists at the military base in Bone County. The virus is known to react well with any mercury elements and its formula is H2O9. We don’t know any thing else. Only the creators of the virus could answer all our questions.


This was a very long document presented to you by Gast Blackman.”


“Are you finished to be playing with me, stupid pendejo?” I yelled at him attracting Allen and Gastro into my room.

“What’s happening here?” asked Shell.

“Nothing. There’s f*cking nothing!” I yelled again.


They both quitted my chamber and I started to read the last document which was short too. Here’s what was written on the document:


“As you surely know what Adolf Hitler did in the World War II, I guess I don’t have to tell you deeply what the terrorist group do. They make the Hitlerian salute, they think they are from the superior ethnic, they kill anyone who’s of an inferior ethnic, etc...


For the old Roman culture they are practicing, I have more information to learn you. They respect an old Roman calendar system which is old from before the Christ. The year said “Romulus” counted 304 days which happens all the five years for them. It’s at the time of Tarquis or Numa that the years got from 304 days to 355 days separated in 12 months. They added sometimes, a thirteenth month of 22 days to be able to keep up with the sun system. The Roman months, until the true Jules Caesar, were like this:

March in honour of the God of war March.

Aprilis from the Latin word “aperire” meaning open or the earth is opening.

Maius from the Latin word “majus” which means more bigly consecrated to Jupiter.

Junius in honour of the woman Junia.

Quintilis which means fifth.

Sextilis which means sixth.

September which means seventh.

Ocotber which means eight.

November which means ninth.

December which means tenth.

Januarius from the God Janus, who with his two heads, look in front and behind of him.

Februarius from Februa which is a purificator Holiday.

Mercedonius which is coming from the planet Mercury which is a month of 22 days.


After the assassination of Jules Caesar in 44 BC, the month Quintilis got named Julius which is our July. After the death of Augustus, another Roman emperor, the month Sextilis got called Augustus to be called later August.


The thirteenth month was starting after the 23rd day of Februarius for 22 days and at the end of those days, the Februarius month continued as normally with the 24th and so on until a new year started.


Each month were separated like this:

The first day of the month was called day of Calendes.

From the second one to the fifth one or the seventh one those days were called days before Nones.

The fifth or the seventh day was called the Nones.

From the fifth day or seventh day to the twelfth day was called Day before the Ides.

The twelfth was called “Vigil” of the Ides.

The thirteenth one was named the Ides (full moon).

From the fourteenth to the twenty-ninth or the thirty-one was named the days before the Calendes.

The twenty-ninth or thirty-one was named the “Vigil” des Calendes.


This is what complete this set of documents, thanks for reading until this far.”


“What are you trying to mean with all those old things, amigo?” I asked.

“I want to open your eyes about the terrorist group known as the thirty conspirators” he said.

“What?” I asked him confused.

“General Manning was number XXVIII, right? You are number XXX, right? Well in fact you took the places of these two guys who you killed,” he said with a loud tone.

“Can we talk of this tomorrow? I’m tired. I want to get some sleep,” I said getting under the blankets of my bed.

“Sleep well boss. I’m will do as you said. I’ll speak of this with you tomorrow,” he said getting out.


This is how my first official day as a gang leader ended.




Loco Syndicate - Big Smoke's Crack House

Chapter Fourteen – One of Them Was in the Army - Part. 7

August 1th, 1991 – 09:24


When I woke up, the other day, with a big headache which I supposed was because of my reading from the other day, I prepared myself something to eat and joined the others outside. They were playing hockey and needed someone else to make two teams of seven men. The game was pretty fun and my team won ten to zero because of my ten goals and because of the twenty saves made by Blackman. We left ourselves to go in our rooms to get warmth up a little bit. By the time, I had two ideas. One was concerning the Gallon of Love Juice and the other one was concerning a matter which was more important that even the most intelligent guy on earth would not be able to guess it.


After some hours of unwanted sleep, I joined Blackman, Shell and McDermott who were talking of random things, in the motel parking.


“Que pasa vato, dese' putas be' runnin' 'round our varrio,” I said pointing two suspicious guys looking around breaking and kicking objects around.

“Guys!” he yelled at our boys, “Get rid of these punks!”

“Who are dese’ putas?” asked Shell.

“I don’t know. Maybe some new eses in the varrio,” McDermott said pulling out his Brass Knuckle and going to help our boys.

“This McDermott is acting strangely,” I mumbled to myself thinking of what I should do first.

“Me pregunto si sabemos que estos hombres,” said Shell to Blackman.

“Me too I wonder if we know them,” replied Blackman after a few minutes looking at the scene.

“Perdone?” I asked them knowing I missed something.

“Nothing,” they both replied going to the discussion which turned into a brawl.


As I followed them, I noticed these eses were from the Cuban Flames. I then yelled at all of them to stop fighting and asked them to go in their rooms while I would speak with them. I took them apart under a stair where no one would spy on us and where the snow would not reach us and they told me about the Gallon of Love Juice I had.


“We know that you have a Gallon of Love Juice,” one of them said.

“Really? How?” I asked them trying to play with them a little bit.

“A BUYSAG squadron stole one of them and while we were driving around Blueberry…” started to say the second one.

“We found the same squadron and we raided it to find some documents which mentioned that they planned to give it to the Last Dime Motel Eses,” completed the first one.

“I guess that you want it volver?” I asked to them.

“What?” the second one asked.

“Back. I guess you want it back?” I asked them again.

“Yes. If you don’t want, we can negotiate,” the first one said.

“Negociaciones?” I asked thinking of something.

“Yes. We could do a negotiate it,” said the first one again.

“If I give you the Gallon of Love Juice, you must give me some AK-47’s,” I said thinking it was a good deal.

“Alright. Come at the Randolph Industrial Estate so we can do business,” said the second one.

“By the way, my name is Rico Mesquez and his is Mauricio Ferreira,” said the second guy.

“Alright then. See you later,” I said leaving them.


I joined McDermott and the two others and asked for a gang meeting.


“Today, we’re going to be more rich and we’re going to get some AK-47’s,” I said trying to be like the most happy guy of the world.

“How?” asked Del Passo.

“Vamos a comercio el tráfico de drogas que tenemos a los cubanos Llamas,” I replied to him seeing a smile on his face.

“The Cuban Flames? The gang coming from Vice City? The gang which is supplying San Andreas with the Love Juice drogas?” asked Hazer.

“Yes, this one,” I answered him expecting to get another question which was not asked.

“Where is the meeting?” asked Shell and Del Passo at the same time.

“Randolph Industrial Estate,” I replied, “We are already expected so we might leave now”.

“All of us?” asked Hazer.

“Yes. Now let’s go,” I said getting in my Moonbeam.


We drove to the meeting and made the trade. We now had some AK-47’s and $360 more in our bank. I stayed a little bit more with Ferreira and Mesquez only to get a bad surprise. The cops arrived busting us. The others were gone.


“Jason Flyll?” said the captain of the assault who was walking to me.

“Yes?” I asked surprised he knew my name.

“You remember me?” he asked, “We were in the same class in High School”.

“No, I don’t know you,” I said trying to make understand to the two others not to try anything foolish with some eyes signs.

“You were always beating me up when we were alone,” he said, “I’m Jonny Lewis”.

“I still don’t remember anything about you,” I replied to him.

“That’s a pity that I’m a cop and that you’re a gang banger,” he said, “I’m going to make you pay for what you’ve done. Get him in the car with the two others”.


We headed to the Las Venturas precinct only to begin a hell of a story.




Loco Syndicate - Big Smoke's Crack House

Chapter Fifteen – One of Them Was in the Army - Part. 8

August 1th, 1991 – 18:26


The room was all dark and scary. I was alone in this special cell gave to me by this Jonny Lewis. At least, that’s what I thought until I heard a familiar voice. I did not take care of it since a guard was approaching with my supper. It consisted of sardines, red potatoes, eggs, milk, oysters and shrimps. I found it weird that they gave me all of this. The guard gave me a note, before leaving me alone in this dark room.


“I know who you are and where you are. This weird supper is to help you escape. I also have someone in there to help you.



I was all confused of this because of this cop wanting revenge, this weird supper, the person inside to help me and this BJ. I ate the food which was delicious and was preparing myself to return to sleep when I heard the same voice.


“I know you and your parents, Jason,” said the voice echoing through the piece, “Just follow my instructions. Head to the door where the guard entered and try to find the ventilation shaft. It is supposed to be on the right near the ground.”


I obeyed him and found the ventilation shaft.


“Now, enter it. Continue straight and take the second way which goes to the right.”


I made what it said me to do.


“Try to find the switch which is at the other side of the room. To help you, there are some matches, on the floor, to your right.”


I took the matches and made my way to the end of the room. I found the switch and used it. The lights opened up at the same time making an old mechanical noise.


“Now, find me!” yelled the voice.


I looked over at piece. When I looked at the top left corner, my heart sank. General Manning was sitting here smoking a Cuban cigar looking at me. He was pretty wounded.


“General Manning!” I yelled to my great surprise, surprised to see him alive.

“Yes, it is me…” he mumbled taking a smoke of his cigar.

“How? How are you still alive?” I asked confused ready to fight.

“Calm down. I’m not your enemy. I am your ally. I’m working with BJ to get you out of here,” he said looking at me in the eyes, “I have the Red Mercury and the virus inside me too.”

“Impossible! I saw your diary!” I yelled at him.

“The first part I suppose. The one that Blackman stole… Well, I should say the one I gave to him,” he corrected himself.

“Yes. I saw it,” I said to him sitting down on the cold floor.

“In the second part, it is mentioned that there’s an error about the project. The correction is that there are three volunteers’. Me, you and Brian Johnson,” he said finishing his cigar.

“We are the only two alive,” I mumbled trying to make order in my head for all that information.

“No!” he yelled, “Brian Johnson is still alive. You know him under the letters “BJ”. He’s working with me to track down these twenty-eight enemies to San Andreas.”

“We are four, in fact,” I said happy having contradicted him, “My son was and is still tracking them.”

“Oh sh*t!” he yelled, “I forgot about him. He’s the fourth one! I hope I wrote it in of my diaries!”

“What!” I yelled, being late reacting about BJ’s identity, “I thought you guys dumped him in Grove Street cul-de-sac in Ganton!”

“That’s true. Could we talk of this later? We should already be out of here,” he said walking to a door I did not notice before.


He opened the door which leaded outside. I followed him and ran to my Moonbeam which was parked here. It was parked here, since we were in the police garage. General Manning entered the car in the back seats and we drove in front of the cop precinct to see a terrible scene. Our guys were being outnumbered by the cops. They were trying to get me back and planned out an attack with our new AK-47’s. I drove the Moonbeam close to the battle and yelled at them to retreat which they obeyed immediately. After a while, I saw the two eses from the Cuban Flames going out and I reversed at them and they got in the car. When we reached the motel, with more fears than wounds, they left us and returned to San Fierro while we were barricading the place expecting a police reply.


Later in the night, during my patrol duty, I saw a black Moonbeam arriving at full speed with a driver and a passenger. They got out of the car. At my great surprise, it was my soon and Brian Johnson. I tried to say something but before I could open my mouth I got caught by an unpleasant wound; a 9mm bullet in the right feet. The cops were here wanting their revenge.




Loco Syndicate - Big Smoke's Crack House

Chapter Seventeen – One of Them Was in the Army - Part. 10

August 1th, 1991 – 21:17


I quickly reached my room to take my Brass Knuckle and my AK-47, ordering the others to do the same thing and to line up the cars to make a roadblock to prevent the cops to break through and to enter the motel parking. We killed the one who shot at me to see, right after, some reinforcement arriving. We took cover behind our Moonbeams and the shootout broke over. We were heavily outnumbered but we had many places to take cover which could provide us many places of ambush. The fight seemed lost when two more cops cars and a SWAT Enforcer. We had killed five cops at the time. When Jonny Lewis arrived with three guys from the SWAT, one minute later, because of their additional firepower, we were ready to retreat. As we were about to do this, one of the Moonbeam exploded wounding Del Passo and Hazer Vialpando.


One hour later, in my room, we were still fighting them. All hopes of victory seemed lost, until we heard some explosions. Some Aztecas were here to help us. Their shots destroyed the SWAT Enforcer and one of the three cop cars. When all of them were death, Jonny made a run for himself and we didn’t manage to catch him. I supposed he fled to the police station. The Aztecas helpers were; Hazer, a new in the gang called Raymound and a retired veteran who returned into the gang named Hazzer. There was two positive points with this attack. The cops we weak and we could go for Jonny if we launched a well prepared attack on the precinct. When the Aztecas left us to return to El Corona in Los Santos, we all voted to prepare an attack. It was time to return the ball. We would attack at night and two teams would go through the two door entrance while two teams would go by the garage. One other team would wait in the streets serving as a backup team if necessary.


At 21 o’clock, we launched the attack. Team Alpha composed of Hazer Vialpando, Ammigo Del Passo and Puesto Muerte would take the main entrance. Team Bravo would take the service entrance. This team would be composed of Flames Ole, Oracles Ole and Riches Muerda. The team called Coca-Cola, because they argued between Coca and Cola, would take the garage entrance and go to the elevator. This one would be made of Mucho Muerde, Gastro Shell and Gast Blackman. My team, called the Delta team, would take the garage entrance and clean up the garage. Orales Oye and Odel Passo were my comrades. The last team, consisting of my son, Steve Flyll, and General Manning would wait outside waiting to be needed as backup. This one would be called the Elite team.


When we took out the guards of the garage, posting me in the last underground level, Oye on the first underground level and Passo on the entrance level, we gave the signal to team Alpha and team Bravo to start their part of the assault. After this, I tried to get in contact with team Coca-Cola.


“Team Coca-Cola? I repeat. Team Coca-Cola?” I said through the Walkie-Talkie we found on the dead bodies of the cops and SWAT guys.


I got no answers. At the time, I thought they were fighting.


“Team Delta?” asked the voice of Steve.

“Team Elite. What’s the status?” I asked hoping good news.

“Team Coca-Cola got wiped out by this Jonny Lewis,” he said with a sad tone.


The communication got cut off before I could say anything.


For team Alpha, everything was successful. For team Bravo, it was the complete opposite. They were pinned down and needed help. This is where team Elite introduced itself in the show. When they killed at least all of them and cornered the remaining ones near the Sheriff office, we reunited all of us there and killed all of them but one.


“Please! Don’t kill me!” he yelled horrified to get killed by a gang that took over the police station, “We can deal like proper gentlemen!”

“What you want to deal?” I said with a joking tone, “The police station?”

“Yes! I give you the entire station at a cost of $300!” he yelled begging for his life, “This is my last action as a Sheriff since I’m going to quit out soon.”

“Wow!” I whistled surprised to get this offer, “An entire police station for $300 only to stay alive! Well then… You’ve got yourself a deal. How about I make you chief of the security?”

“Thanks!” he said kissing my hand like if I was a sort of mafia Don or something, “I accept. I hope it will help me to help my family.”


I gave him $300 out of $350 I had in my right pocket. We were pretty beaten up, at the time, and we didn’t bother about going back to the motel. As a result of it, we slept in our “gang” station.

Edited by Secronom President
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