A/N: Any comments or suggestions (hem hem KRIS!) e-mail me: to a Gang War

Chapter III:

Power of Money

An old man was sitting on the sidewalk, with 20 bucks, smiling slightly at his making, although still holding the fact in his mind that he was a complete FAILURE. But, he tried hard and hoped one day he would hit the jackpot and someone would give him enough to get him back on his feet.

I woke early the next day on the couch, with a nice little Uzi in my left pocket. I knew just by looking at Tommy's home that it was going to be pretty ugly when my first mission started off, and judging by his story, this guy wasn't clean. Tommy Vercetti…hmm…

The funny thing is I've heard of him as well. He was a lot like Alex Wren I used to think, but now I realize, duh, he is Alex Wren. So I was just walking out the door and a car stops at my front lawn. I see people look at me and pull up their guns.

"Oh shit!" I screamed and then jumped back inside. A drive-by took place there at that moment, and at least 20 shots rang out. I let them drive off, while still lying down on the ground and then got outside and got in my car. My phone rang.

"What?" I said, frantically looking around to see if they were still there.

"Yeah…" came the reply, "So sorry 'bout that one."

"Vercetti!" I said, "What the fuck, man?"

"Yeah I was kind of in a little 'thing' with them and they were torturing and I kind of let it slip out that you were my retainer."

"Wait, wait, wait!" I stopped him, "Who the hell said I was your retainer now?"

"My good buddy George Washington and his 50,000 twins."


"You still---"

"Yeah, yeah, sorry…just…50,000 dollars is a lot on the phone."

"Yeah, well you got to get to my house in one piece first in order to get this 50 grand."

"Okay, okay. Well, just wait for me."

"Heh, I have a choice?" He hung up.

I was on my way and the guys pulled up behind me.

"Oh…" I got a grenade. There was no one ahead of me and it was a perfectly straight road, so I put my head out the window. "GIVE IT A REST!" I tossed the grenade. It landed through the windshield and they spun out into an alley and blew up, although I'm pretty sure I saw one jump out. No matter. We were going 75; he was either dead or seriously hurt.

The cops were all over it, but I was at Vercetti's house already.

"Alright, now that you're here, we can talk business." He said to me, "So your first 'hit' is on a man named Carl Johnson. He was a big threat in my mind for a long time, and he lives in a house on Grove St, just south of here. When you get there, I want you to take these," he thrust me a couple of Molotov Cocktails, "and torch his house."

"Hah! So you say he is a 'threat'? Now, tell me the real story of why you want him dead."

"Okay. Joey Leone didn't really kill my girlfriend, Mercedes. Carl did. It was a little side-job he got from Phil Cassidy. Yeah, I don't know why either. He used to be my closest buddy."

"Okay, I got you. I'll torch his place." I began to walk out. "Uhh…by the way, what the hell happened to your arm?" I pointed to his sling.

"What, you kidding?" he looked at me, puzzled. "You shot me you dumb shit!"

"Oh…oh yeah. Okay, I'll be back soon."

I parked around the back of the house and looked at the picture that was left with me in the piece of shit puke-yellow Oceanic. It was the place, alright. I grabbed my Molotov Cocktails and snickered: piece of cake. Hopefully he was home, though. I looked inside and could see a distinct outline of a tall, strong man. Hope that's him.

I grabbed the cocktail and thrust it through the window, hard as I could. I was used to this, thankfully, being an Anarchist and all. I heard screaming from the inside so I grabbed some more. I hurled them in one by one until every window was filled. Occasionally I missed, but, still, that would make it look more like it was a natural fire around the house.

The cops were all over it immediately, so I hid on the freeway sidewalk. As soon as the fire truck left and everything was clean, I tried to spot the body-bags. I saw one, two…three, even. Good. One of them was bound to be him, so I was happy about that. The ambulance rushed off as did the cops, and I got back in my car and drove to the crusher.

I arrived back at Vercetti's an hour later, shouting for my money. I looked around, no one home, but a brief case next to the TV. I opened it, and sure enough, the money was there. I took the brief case and where it was placed left a note written "Thank you! Your friend, Stan Lacrosse"

I got a call from someone and it was my fellow, Jason.


I got back in my car and headed right back to where I headed 3 hours ago. I was frantic, driving fast, swerving, weaving in and out of cars and finally got there, just in time to see Jason dead. He was burned. BURNED to death, and the irony made me wonder what really happened. I got out and looked around and saw someone run off. Tall, and black. Not to mention kind of strong, but his hair was covered by a hat. I knew by the way he was dressed in green that he was a Family, avenging another Family's death.

I followed him to the highway and saw him there, crying. I pulled out my gun silently and pointed it directly at him, but I couldn't bring myself to kill him, but I tried to think about what he did to Jason. I opened my eyes again and realized I was crying, too. I couldn't believe it, but I thought he deserved it for killing 3 of my best friends. I whistled.

He looked at me.

It was the guy who managed to jump out of the car that blasted at me before it blew up…

"You deserve it." I said.


And that's how Shaun "Sweet" Johnson died. A gunshot wound right in his heart, but the bullet was never found, dug too deep in the soil behind him as I shot him in the throat. I was safe, so I smiled, but still cried. Cried out of anger and sadness for my friends, but of happiness of being respected way more in my reputation because I shot him. My name was known around the hood now. I would be among the best of the best.

The gods.