Route to a Gang War
By Sid Hawk
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything that has to do with any of the Grand Theft Auto series. Rockstar Games, Rockstar North, and Take Two Interactive Software, Please DO NOT SEW!
CHAPTER 1: Graffiti of the Mind
On a dark street-corner in Vice City, an old man lies down on the ground. It was 2 am, and no one was awake. Only the man, picking at a scab, was stirring.
Or so everyone thought.
Immediately, the man was picked up by the most incredible force known to him. He couldn't see what was holding him by the shirt, for his eyes were closed out of fear, and defenselessness. He was punched once, twice, thrice, and so on until he didn't dare resist the force of his pain.
He woke about an hour later, and immediately noticed all his money was gone. He searched for his wallet, checking the same dumpster three times. Finally, as he gave up he looked into a piece of shattered glass, and saw that he was beaten senseless by an amazing power.
Finally realizing he had been mugged, he knew it was over. As his blood oozed away, so did his hope.
He needed to begin begging all over again.
I woke up, and saw that my house was broken into.
"Damn it," I muttered, "Third time this month. I'm really starting to get tired of this guy for taking all my stuff."
Luckily, my bed, covers, sheets, and pillow was still there. All he took was some money and jewelry. On the desk was the same note I had seen all 3 times I was robbed:
This man seemed a bit clever, only stealing little bits at a time, as if all he really needed was enough of it to satisfy himself for a week or two. But as time flew, he would come back again, needing more. His weakness was also his upper hand. For taking so little at a time was so clever, yet kind of dull. For I could get a new security system. Or I could beat his ass on my own. It really didn't matter, I hope he enjoys it, cause I really don't need that much of it.
Getting out of bed, I began to brush my teeth, and thought of the same thing as every morning.
"I wonder what she's doing right now."
Sheila, my ex-girlfriend has been gone for weeks, and every morning I think of her, and if she's ok. I know we didn't work out that well and we got into so many fights, but for some small reason, we just felt…right.
I popped into the shower and began to wash my back, remembering all the good times we had…yes, we bathed together, and ate together…but all those times were gone. Shattered.
The hope bled from me that one day she would be back. But I will try to work this out of my head, I thought.
Arriving at the alley, I sat down, waiting for the others. They always arrive one at a time; first Jason, then Steve, and lastly, Derek. They all carried the same thing, a 9mm semi-automatic hand-gun. I always seemed to wonder why I was the only one to use an Uzi.
Finally, our leader came. He carried a Stubby Shot-gun. I looked at him, immediately waiting for orders.
He paced…and paced…and paced some more. He seemed to be thinking extremely, extremely hard.
"Look," he finally spoke, "Jetz are all over town today, increasing their name and their reputation. They have many more people, because almost everything is their turf now. Our mission today is for all of you to spray-paint over their logos and get more turf."
"Stan (me), I want you to make sure that everyone here stays out of sight of the Jetz. If any of you are seen spray-painting over theirs, they will make sure you are dead by sundown. "Steve! You and Jason stay together, spray-painting in the southern part of town.
"Derek! Stay with Stan, he's very good at graffiti. You boys are in the up-town region. As for me, I'll handle the central part of Los Santos.
"Ready, boys? Meet back here by 3pm. Let's go!"
We all split up in separate directions. Derek followed me to a different street, immediately entering Up-town. Steve and Jason went off into the complete opposite direction. I already saw the spray-painted logo of the J3Tz right on the wall next to me, and so I quickly spray-painted right over it.
Yeah…heat. Greatest name we could come up with. I heard a gun-shot at my right. Looking over, I saw a Jet. He must have seen my act of vengeance. And for a second act of vengeance, I pulled my Uzis on him. About 3 seconds later, we were off in a separate way, hoping there were no witnesses to the shooting. Luckily, my Uzis were silenced.
Unfortunately, his 9mm wasn't. We stole a police car around the back of a donut shop and drove off, listening closely to the radio.
And there it was. "There has been a report on a shooting somewhere in the Up-town Los Santos region. Be advised, there is a deceased man at the scene."
BANG! It hit us like a bullet, because it was a bullet. When we shook our heads and took our attention away from the radio there was a Jet shooting for us.
Derek pulled a 9mm drive-by. Thankfully, there was no screaming from the victim this time. Again, we turned our attention to the police radio, parked in a deserted ally-way. No report…
For a split second, I looked away, only to find another graffiti mark. "Here." I said, and we got out of the car. I ran up to the graffiti and sprayed, once again, right over it.
We began to walk away from the car, that way there was no evidence to what happened. We continued to walk when I heard another gun-shot. But this time, it was way more powerful. Not a "Bang!" More like a "KABANG!"
Fortunately, it was just the leader's shotgun. He ran into our ally and pointed his Stubby right at us.
"GET THE FUCK BACK!" he shouted.
"Take it easy, it's us!" Derek replied.
"Oh, thank God it's you!" he said, lowering his weapon, "Help."
We turned the corner, greeted by at least a dozen Jetz. I drew out my Uzi and Derek pulled his 9mms. As we shot, a few things ran through my mind.
What about Steve and Jason?
How are we going to pull ourselves out of this muck?
What am I doing here, anyway?
Am I out of ammo?
As a few more shots were fired, I heard an abnormally loud grunt from behind me.
The leader! I looked at him, and he was losing life. I continued shooting and took out the last Jet without looking at him, for all my focus was on the leader.
I looked at him take his last breaths…
And his life flashes before his very eyes
"Jimmy, get on your tricycle."
"Ha, ha, ha! I didn't know fire-crackers exploded THAT bad!"
"Are you sure you don't want me to wear rubber?"
"THANKS TO YOU, I'M A FUCKING FATHER, NOW!"
"Ready, boys? Meet back here by 3pm. Let's go!"
He took one last look at Derek, and his head fell. The first thing I thought was Who's going to be the new leader?
I decided to look through his pockets or something, to see if there were last wishes or his giving. I found in his back pocket, a paper that said "To Stanly…"
This'll have to do, but for now, we're going back to one of our turfs.