Write Your Own Adventure: (HDU Liberty City)

[sabitsuki]

WRITE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE (HD UNIVERSE LIBERTY CITY EDITION)

 

Since the previous thread lost its way and vision due to a lack of direction I've decided to make a new thread for this kind of thing. Here are some rules that I've outlined for this edition of WYOA.

 

RULES

 

1. You can write a chapter revolving around either a pre-existing character or an OC, and at the end of the chapter, you must present three different options/prompts to the next writer as to how the story can proceed.

 

2. Each story must be split into 4 different chapters, with one building up to the next with the different options. No matter what you do, you must conclude the story on the 4th chapter, after which you would have to write a new story after that. This is to keep the thread fresh with good quality storylines!

 

3. No joke storylines! Save that for Fanfiction.net or Wattpad, or start your own thread, if you really want to write something silly that people can get a laugh out of.

 

4. If you can, include original art/images/graphics or musical cues in your writings, to further immerse your readers into the storyline. This forum has a great format for this kind of thing, so take advantage of it.

 

5. All stories in this thread must be set within the HD Universe of Liberty City and Alderney, with only other cities such as Los Santos either mentioned or appearing only briefly, should you feel the need to include them. There is no fixed year that you can set the story in.

 

Happy Writing!

Edited October 30, 2020 by DownInThePMs

[String]

                                                                    CHAPTER  ONE

                                                               Where it all went wrong

 

 

Schottler Medical Center

Cassidy Street, Schottler

Broker, Liberty City

2008

 

Jon Gravelli was a man stuck in the past. Perhaps, he mused, it was hard not to live in the past when your present was calling this miserable ward home, forced to keep up appearances while feeling your life ebb with every breath; and your (near) future was calling a coffin home. Better to dwell on the past then, than risk drifting to a sleep he may never awaken from. Gravelli was not ready to go just yet, not until he properly came to terms with his past, he thought.

 

Gravelli preferred not to dwell on his early years too much. Born in Meadow Hills, Dukes, he had quickly shown an aptitude for the family business. At first he had been a brash young lad willing to do anything and everything he could for the Gambetti Family including helping run an underground gambling ring, roughing up defaulters, boosting vehicles and even a couple of attempted murders, the last one forcing his uncle, Don Sonny Cangelosi to pull in some favours back in 49. Since then the Don had taken him under his tutelage and while he learnt a lot of things from his uncle, perhaps the most important lessons he imbibed was to remember every face you meet and to keep a cool head. That ensured his run in with the law in 49 would be his last for forty years.

 

"Don Gravelli?", a voice abruptly interrupted his thoughts. Gravelli craned his neck to his right (even such things required inhuman effort these days it seemed) and noticed the well dressed man sitting at his bed. When had he arrived? Had his faculties already gotten that bad?

Though Gravelli knew better than to dwell on this too much, his friend from the IAA did tend to be rather sneaky in his approach after all.

 

"The distribution vans have all been destroyed. The stuff has been entirely eliminated." The man from the IAA said.

 

"Ah, I see".

 

"Yeah, those Russians have taken a serious hit alright. The Ancelottis want nothing to do with any of this either. Safe to say their partnership ended before it began".

 

"That's good, we <gasp>...have enough goddamned problems of our own to <wheeze>...need the hand of Ivan the goddamn terrible." Gravelli was privately thankful he could still complete sentences without bursting into a coughing fit. Though he liked the man at his side, he was too proud to show him any weakness he could withhold even now.

 

"True enough" .

 

A pause.

 

"That Niko kid did good. Maybe it's time we pull our end of the bargain".

 

"Yes, he did good...very good" Gravelli said, then added "He's a good kid".

 

"He is".

 

"I'll <wheeze> talk to Roy soon. Anything else, Bernard?".

 

"Just that I wish you well, Don", Bernard replied, raised his hand and got up to leave.

 

Don Gravelli could not help chuckle at this, he seemed to have more well wishers than he could care for. He raised his hand and the IAA agent made his way out, and Gravelli was once more lost in thought.

 

The mention of that kid brought back memories. Painful ones. Not that he had any complaints about Niko Bellic, his latest and perhaps last hired gun. Niko did what he was told to admirably,so admirably that he could think of only one man that could match up. That was what caused the painful memories Gravelli had bottled up to resurface.

 

The Don sighed. In any case he had a mental word with whoever was responsible for his fate (Don Gravelli was a confused man when it came to matters of religion) that he be allowed not to depart this world until he fully reflected on his past, and what all of it meant to him. That brought him back to what he wanted to dwell upon before Bernard had interrupted.

 

The glory days of the Gambetti Family, when he ruled over an entire city. Nay, over the entire East Coast.

 

After the death of his uncle Sonny in 1978, Jon Gravelli had been the natural choice as successor to the head of the Gambettis even if he hadn't been anointed as such by his uncle ( though he had ), such had his presence grew. While Sonny had been a firm but relatively unambitious leader, Gravelli was ruthless in a cold calculating manner. He exerted a cold, tight grip on Gambetti interests while allowing enough margin to keep things benign and not brew resentment among those working with the family. His way of doing things was to put the fear of God in his adversaries while inspiring loyalty in those under him with promises of power and glory and leading by example with a refreshing honesty that charmed those around him, and an ambition that sparked life in his underlings.

 

Under Don Gravelli's leadership the Gambettis ran multiple thriving business fronts in Liberty City including construction, window fitting, bus lines, cleaning, waste management, and tenders. On the other side, gambling rings were run on a much larger and profitable scale, loansharking and protection rackets too. There was also the small business of running a coast wide arms and drugs trafficking ring that grew so enormously successful that that was probably the sole reason why the Gambetti Family became the most poweful Italian American organisation in Liberty, if not the most powerful organisation altogether..

 

But Don Gravelli didn't try fooling himself by thinking his leadership was the sole reason behind all of this. Nay, there was a man just as important to all of this, whom perhaps the Gambettis owed more of their success to and whom he was reminded of by Niko Bellic's stone cold efficacy.

 

A pang of sadness struck Gravelli and had him reaching out for his ventilator. But he forced himself to think of it anyway, it was something he had to finish, for closure. He focused his thoughts on that man, that key figure in the Gambettis destiny.

 

The Underboss

Sammy Bottino

 

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

 

Jon Gravelli had picked up in Little Italy a twelve year old Sammy ( around the time Gravelli became Don) impressed by his audacity to try and pickpocket a Gambetti man. He should have scared him off but something about the young boy's boldness and the way he defiantly stuck his chin up at them even if he was merely trying to hide his fear, reminded Gravelli of his own youthful brashness. So he took the boy under his wing in much the same way his uncle Sonny did all those years ago. Sammy was a fast learner who showed most of the qualities Gravelli possessed in greater magnitude. Before he reached the age of 20, Bottino had already developed a reputation as a stone cold killer who could engage groups of adversaries and cone out unscathed leaving no one alive, and was surely becoming the Don's right hand man. His fearsome reputation only grew with the years and with it grew the influence of the Gambettis. You wanted somebody to be coerced/scared off. Sammy was your man. Wanted to disrupt a valuable business arm of the Ancellotis? Sammy. Needed someone as security for a most vauable deal to be finalised with the Messinas? Sammy. Needed to whack a high profile target and crush all retaliatory measures, and clean up the mess afterward? Sammy.

 

If Don Gravelli was the brains behind the Gambetti operation, Sammy was the brawn, the enforcer who saw to it that the Gambetti business expanded while remaining ever profitable. Gravelli took a liking for Sammy, even more than his fiercely loyal then consigliere Roy Zito. But there was one thing the Don never liked about Sammy,one that he should have known would come to bite them in the ass.

 

Sammy Bottino did not know when to stop.

 

Sammy was as ruthless and ambitious as Don Gravelli himself if not more, but where Gravelli would know when to concede a little bit to sweeten the deal and know whom to take on and whom to leave for another time, Sammy was too ruthless. He took inflicting the fear of god into his enemies from Gravelli too seriously, and oftentimes he would piss off an enemy whom they could have avoided doing so which only complicated things. Sammy would leave no one spared in a conflict whether it be an extra gun or a poor bystander who got caught up and while the Don appreciated his thoroughness sometimes he wondered if this was going overboard and actually hurt the business. All things considered Sammy was dear to the Don, he valued his inputs  tremendously and if he overdid it a little he could perhaps look the other way cause business was booming, in no small part due to Sammy. For Don Gravelli Sammy was the son he never had ( after he disowned his true son who had a most shameful vice, heroin, and wasted his life away but the less said about that ingrate the better).

 

But then it all went wrong when Sammy took it too far that day in 2002. Gravelli held this thought for another whiff of his ventilator.

 

He then forced himself to remember.

 

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

 

Gambetti Lockup

Union Drive West, Westminster

Algonquin. Liberty City

2002

 

 

"You gotta hurry boss, the devil's taken over him, it's all going to sh*t!" Roy Zito practically dragged Don Jon Gravelli while holding him by his right arm seemingly only for support but the Don knew this sense of urgency, so unnatural to Roy and the fact that he swore in his presence despite knowing he hated it caused the Don to hold his reprimand. He knew it must be something important. Even then Gravelli's health was on the decline and he would rather he was in his porch relaxing in the sunshine listening to the birds chirp  but he allowed himself to be led by Roy while being chaperoned by four Gambetti underlings.

 

One of them pulled the shutters open.

 

"Whoever that son of a bitch is, you haven't caught my attention yet so I suggest you beat it while you still can" a familar deep voice boomed from inside.

 

Don Gravelli feared the worst, and his fears were not completely unfounded as he entered the poorly lit lockup.

 

A bloodied and disfigured man who seemed to be only half conscious was tied to a chair. A thick set man facing the victim was waving maniacally what seemed to be the victim's cut out tongue.He then turned in the direction of the door and Gravelli saw the most feral look he'd ever seen on Sammy Bottino's moustached face. That look momentarily turned to one of genuine surprise and quickly into an almost stoic feature.

 

"Boss, you here?"

Boss, you here. The almost casual tone of the statement, like Sammy was merely surprised by Gravelli meeting him unannounced at Drussila's or something almost made the Don fly off the handle.

 

" Sammy what in the name are.."

 

Don Gravelli then recognized the tied up man.

 

"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND BOY!"

 

"He's behind that mess in Tudor, boss".

 

"YOU THINK HARVEY'S MAN WAS BEHIND THAT AMBUSH. WHAT ARE YOU, OUTTA YOUR MIND?'  Don Gravelli surprised even himself with the energy he was mustering but he was furious. The victim was Mark Volpe, caporegime of the Messina Family whose Don, Harvey Noto and himself were the best of pals, Gravelli was godfather to Noto's daughter and so was Noto to Gravelli's son though the less said about that ingrate the better. There was no way in the Don's mind that the Messinas could have been behind that ambushed drug deal in the abandoned Sprunk Factory where the LCPD incarcerated thirteen Gambetti men and killed four.

 

"I'm certain of it boss. We've long suspected the Messinas had an informant trying to bring down the entire Commission. This pig has always had his ears perked up whenever a big deal goes down between the families, he's always been too nosy and we heard him bragging about us taking a hit and..."

 

Mark Volpe seemed to wake up at this and started wailing.

 

"Shut the f*ck up!" Sammy violently slapped him across the face.

 

Don Gravelli had to think and think fast. Things had gone too far and he did not know how he was to smoothen things over with Noto. While the Gambettis were the most poweful of the Commission this brazen act could turn the entire Commission against them which would be too much even for them.

 

"Boss we gotta release Volpe and arrange a meeting with the Commisision urgently, this could boil over into something nasty if we don't do something quick." Roy urged Don Gravelli.

 

"You always had no balls, Roy" Sammy spoke. "What we need to do is eliminate the rat and destroy evidence, it's that simple, it's what I've always done and it's what always worked". A fresh burst of anger threatened to overcome the Don on hearing this nonchalance.

 

Perhaps, a thought began to form in Gravelli's mind, we could use this to our advantage and frame a rival family or even one of those upstarts like the Pegorino Family, it would seem so much simpler.

 

As all eyes turned on the Don, some anxious like Roy's and some cool like Sammy's, Don Gravelli decided to-

 

A) Release Volpe at once and arrange a meeting with the Commission trying to earnestly smooth things over, as suggested by Roy.

 

B) Kill Volpe and eliminate all evidence and speak no more of it, as suggested by Sammy.

 

C) Kill Volpe and frame it on a rival organisation, as Don Gravelli thought.

Edited October 30, 2020 by Utopianthumbs

[slimeball supreme]

fun idea i used to do this stuff all the time. going to test out different characterizations of guys whove already appeared in my stuff too

 

CHAPTER TWO

C - Lessons in Politicking

 

Mark Volpe was a capo. Mark Volpe had more than a dozen men with buttons under his name and an innumerable amount associated spread in Dukes: bookies, shylocks, sh*t like that. Mark Volpe was not gonna disappear silently. Mark Volpe, the man who had cut another man's tongue out over an insult, who had enough stature to get away with it, was prominent enough to make it known. Jon Gravelli knew, whatever happened, if he let the guy out then things would not end well. He'd seen their faces. He'd heard their names. And Jon Gravelli had been to his f*cking wedding.

 

Sammy was holding his tongue.

 

There was no fixing this.

 

And Jon looked to Roy, and Jon looked to Sammy, and Jon just nodded.

 

Which meant what it meant.

 

Sammy didn't say nothing but his eyes spoke. And those mad dog eyes flared up, like he'd got the switch in his head flipped on, bent down to pick up a bloodied box cutter on the floor. Unsheathed it, got right up close to the poor guy. Dug it deep into his neck. Roy looked away, held his tongue; no screaming from Volpe, just this animal moan going quiet and quiet and quiet. And then nothing.

 

Jon said "Porky, Nunzio. Clean this sh*t up, okay?"

 

Two of the entourage got peeled off.

 

Sammy held the smiles back to say "So what now?"

 

Jon, "Are you outta your f*ckin' mind? Idiot. Idiot."

 

"Jon--"

 

"You don't f*cking Jon me. You don't f*cking Jon me. You get sanction? You gotta go to me and him over somethin' like this. Idiot."

 

"Sir--"

 

"We're havin' a talk, Sonny. After this. We're having a talk. That's the f*ck'd we doin', huh?" Coughed a little, "Give an old man a heart attack over--"

 

"I had good reasons."

 

"Good enough for me?"

 

"Good enough for this."

 

Roy snarled "You keep quiet for what's good for you, Sam."

 

And Sammy just said "You gonna f*ckin' brown nose for him, huh?"

 

"Enough," Jon said.

 

And that meant enough.

 

Sammy dropped the cutter and left to sulk.

 

Jon nodded to Roy.

 

~~

 

Detectives found Mark Anthony Volpe in Northwood with his tongue cut out, his throat slit, and a golf club cover stuffed in his mouth. And three days later, Jon got the call from Harvey to meet at the Deli. The Deli was on Yorktown, by a Bank of Liberty and some basketball courts, had some plastic chairs out on the sidewalk. The meet was casual-like, two friends. Jon said maybe not because when it comes to association these days the feds'll book you for sharing a f*cking table, but Harvey asked what he had to worry about.

 

Harvey Noto was this fat f*cking guy, bulldog cheeks, burgundy polo shirt tucked into his slacks with his reading glasses on reading the dailies. Jon had parked the car around the corner and came with Serge and the kid Bobby from Boone Street. Bobby had him by the shoulder which Jon didn't tell him was f*cking condescending but sure as hell was, sure as hell meant the kid would probably be cleaning the dog sh*t from his f*cking tires by the time he got home, but for now he just let it happen. Appear weak when you are strong, and appear strong when you are weak.

 

Harvey asked "You want somethin' to drink?"

 

Jon replied "No, my throat - s'all f*cked up, doctor said it was uh... bronchial, some seasonal sh*t."

 

"sh*t, it contagious?"

 

"Don't you worry about that. Tell you what, though, you get Serge somethin'. He was driving the whole way over, f*ckin' kid, tells me about his ma and this thing--"

 

"Hey, don't worry."

 

Jon exaggerated this cough and pulled a handkerchief out - was dressed down in a cardigan under a blouson, old man sh*t. No suits. Let Harvey make a fuss to one of his guys about a grape soda and let the conversation simmer on small talk. Watched his eyes for calculations and made his responses curt or long-winded opposite his intentions; tire the guy out, let him change the subject to what he wants to say. Which he did.

 

Harvey rubbed at his nose and said "You heard about the thing that happened, right?"

 

Jon feigned ignorance, "The thing in Tudor or the thing on the Boulevard?"

 

"No. The thing. Uptown, Northwood. You'd a heard."

 

"Oh." Jon rubbed at his shoulder, "My condolences."

 

"Yeah?"

 

"That Volpe kid, right? Little f*ck he was but a good little f*ck, right? You gotta feel sorry for the wife more'n anything else. The family. That's what matters, right?"

 

Harvey looked a few ways and said, belabored, "We was gonna whack him anyhows, right?"

 

Jon blinked. Goddamn luck. "Why?"

 

Put up a finger - "Some sh*t. I mean, that kid was... there was this guy Little Tony who had these games and then he went down. It was for that gambling thing. And then the kid Womp-Womp and a couple other guys, they all get served papers. And they was with Mark's crew. We narrowed down who coulda' been gettin' no information on him but-... I mean, you know. Who else? The feds size us up like we're meat. I feel sorry for his kid brother, because these are good kids. But--"

 

"It's always tough when you gotta cut with the people you love, I know that."

 

"They found him with some sh*t in his mouth. Golf club cover. Like a rat. That's obvious. What I'm wondering is how the f*ck this got out the kid mighta' gone to the talkies. I try keep a tight ship--"

 

"So it was Northwood, right?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"You gotta do the math. Is what I say, usually. When they do somethin' like this, they get lazy. They put the guys somewhere close and then shrug their shoulders. You know the crews who run uptown? Maybe it had somethin' to do with that."

 

"I thought that. But it's too easy, ain't it?"

 

"Maybe. You kill a made guy without sanction and that's already a dumbf*ck move, ain't it?"

 

Harvey chewed on the words and said "Maybe."

 

"There's that kid uptown, Joe C. Some of Loopy's guys, maybe - his uncle's doing that bullsh*t tryna' pretend he's gone senile and don't understand nothin', maybe there's some connection there. Maybe they got Sonny on it."

 

"You think?"

 

"Either/or. Did they pluck his eyebrows?"

 

"I'll ask."

 

"Think on it. If they ain't, maybe they asked Sonny to make it look like it was inter-family. Maybe that kid Joe let one of his moolies out their cage and gone apesh*t, you know that kid sells H, too. And that's a filthy f*cking business. Selling smack with blacks, f*ckin' cheek of it. Maybe Mark was in on it."

 

"A lot of theories, huh?"

 

"A lot of bullsh*t. We been doin' this for too long to not get that. You did 15 years, you know how easy it is when the pigs catch your scent and there's flies on every sh*t and everybody wants a slice. You think this is worth a meeting with the Commission?"

 

"No."

 

"I don't think so, neither."

 

"Jon - listen," Harvey had his hands clasped leaned over the table to get man-to-man. "You hear anything about this. You get whoever tells you to tell me, okay?"

 

"No problem."

 

"We want this silent. Dead silent. Everyone's going down for something-or-other these days and we don't need no more corpses and no more bullsh*t."

 

"I know it well."

 

"Thank you."

 

And Jon reached over, and Jon pat Harvey on the hands. And Jon said "Y'know, you got a cup of somethin' I could drink on?"

 

~~

 

If ever a change in the hierarchy was made more obvious, it was when Sammy went to Jon's house and was told to wait in the foyer with Porky. Because, Porky said, "Jon and Roy are having a conversation." So he brought out a chair and told him it might be a while. And then an hour later Jon comes down with Roy laughing.

 

Sammy was demoted in all but name. The conversation they were supposed to have, one Sammy agitated for, didn't happen for almost a year. Sammy earned in the meantime, earned like a motherf*cker, but he was kicking up to Roy instead of kicking up to Jon. Sammy stayed quiet, forced himself to for the sake of the family. But knew he weren't the golden boy no more the second he got told by another capo Roy had been going to meetings in Jon's place.

 

It was 2003 when Sammy was gonna have the talk. Not a talk about business or some sh*t cut short for the sake of it, the talk about what happened.

 

Nunzio led him upstairs.

 

Door opened.

 

Jon was in bed.

 

Sammy said "Jon? Sir?"

 

"Ah, there he is." Wheezed a little to sit up straight, said "Nunzio, can you--"

 

"Sure, boss." Goon waddled over to help him up and walk him to a loveseat by the balcony window. "Sammy, c'mon."

 

Sam followed.

 

Sam seated himself while Jon was still getting helped down.

 

But Sam waited, like a good little boy. Sam f*cking waited.

 

"That's good, that's good. Nunzio, thank you."

 

Nunzio walked out.

 

It was just them.

 

It was Jon Gravelli in his pajamas, green tartan, with the liverspots and the beak looking worn out. In the opposite chair he put his arms on the rests, looked Sammy down. Sam had shaved, Sam had put on cologne, Sam had put on a suit.

 

Jon said "Sonny, you dress up for me?"

 

Sammy said "What's going on?"

 

"How do you mean?"

 

"I mean- look. Okay. I'll cut with the sh*t, huh? I know youse been f*ckin' me. I know it. We both know it."

 

"Okay." That wasn't even a denial, just a noncommittal gesture. Just him saying sure.

 

"What's going on?"

 

"I don't know."

 

"I been good for you, sir. I have. I really have. I been doin' what I been doin' quiet-like. With everything goin' on, it's f*ckin' difficult, but I have. And I ain't seein' nothin'. I ain't seein' no talks. I mean--"

 

"Sonny."

 

"I'm just saying--"

 

"It's okay."

 

Jon gazed at him fatherlike.

 

He repeated, "It's okay."

 

Sammy was disarmed. "I just want to know if my earn and everything means I'm gonna be doin' things. Because I got all kinds of sh*t--"

 

Interrupted him with a cough. Coughing, violent coughing, this phlegmy roar sending shivers down the old man - coughing into his elbow, and then coughing into nothing while he shakily reached for his shirt pocket to pull out the handkerchief. Sammy sat there, uncomfortable. Maybe fifty seconds went by of this spectacle, of just watching.

 

The old man stopped. Eventually.

 

Sammy said "Are you?"

 

Jon said "You're going to Florida."

 

Sam stopped.

 

Jon, "Roy's scoped out this thing. Florida's neutral ground, we know it, you've got your little place down there and your guy counting chips. I'm thinking you move your crew down there. You set up our thing there. You kick up here. Then we have a crew in Vice City, a proper crew, a real thing. It's good money, good sun. You'd like it."

 

Sam stopped.

 

"It's--"

 

"Are you f*ckin' kicking me out?"

 

Jon shrugged, "No."

 

"So I'm not gonna do it. I got--"

 

"No," Jon said. "You are. You'll like it."

 

"So you're kicking me the f*ck out?"

 

"You're still running a crew--"

 

"Are you kidding me? Who the f*ck is gonna run my rackets here? In my neighborhood."

 

"Roy can take care of it. One of the kids, the Big Guy on Mohanet--"

 

"This is exile."

 

Jon coughed and said "In a matter of speaking, you wanna put it that way? Put it that way, Sonny."

 

"Don't call me that."

 

"You wanna act like a f*cking child?" Jon was unblinking, unflinching, "You wanna be a f*cking boy?"

 

"I been good, sir, I have."

 

"Don't grovel. Just start moving over there."

 

"I ain't done nothin--"

 

"Volpe. The factory. Even now, you say, you earn. You earn without force?"

 

"Volpe's ancient. I--"

 

"Volpe, Volpe, Volpe was without my sanction and without my say. Roy is making, what, three times your crew? And Roy don't even do it with blood."

 

"You treat Roy like your kid."

 

Jon said nothing.

 

"C'mon," Sammy whined.

 

Jon said nothing.

 

"Please."

 

"You're a mad dog. You are. And I love you, Sonny, I do. But for now, you need to go. You cut out that boy's tongue."

 

"That was a long time ago, sir."

 

"But he's still dead, ain't he?"

 

Sammy swallowed it. The anger. But it wasn't something he was good at.

 

A - Sammy, reluctantly and respectfully, obeys the don's orders

B - Sammy, respectfully, tries to firmly decline and negotiate his orders

C - Sammy flies off the handle and violently lashes out at his father figure

Edited November 15, 2020 by slimeball supreme