The night air was chilly; The sky a purple haze of light pollution and remaining naturality in it's appearance. Sometimes, you couldn't tell the difference. It was the streets of Los Santos, which were littered with Gang-Bangers, Drug dealers, hookers, corrupt cops, and everything inbeetween you could think of. Next to Liberty City, Los Santos, San Andreas, was one of the worst places in the world to live. Alleyways and gaps were scattered inbeetween run down buildings, that no one bothered to repair. If one were to look into one of these particular alleys today, they would see a young man, not even to twenty yet, clothed in a green hoodie and blue-jeans being chased by three older men wearing various assortments of clothing, all purple. Why were these men chasing the poor boy? Well, all four people were just more Gang-bangers in Los Santos. The green one, was a member of the Grove Street Families, or Orange Grove Street more accurately. The purple men -- purple was a sign of respect on the streets, of course -- were in a gang titled the Ballas. The Grove Street banger, was one of the biggest members in Orange Grove Families; Sean "Sweet" Johnson.
Sweet had been robbing a convenience store only minutes ago, when, as he was leaving the store, he realized three rival gang members were running up on him. He dropped the items he'd stolen, and began running across the street, to the point where you now meet him. He had a sleek black pistol in his right hand. So did two of the Ballas, who were firing at him. Luckily for Sweet, they were terrible at aiming, and missed him with every shot the fired. As he ran, Sweet saw a bullet embed itself in the ground next to him, narrowly missing his foot. Then another one wizzed pass his ear. "Shit," Thought Sweet,"I gotta' get the fuck outta' here!" Just as he said that, he noticed a large tear in the chain-link fence just up ahead of him. He ran up to it, then jumped onto the small wall the fence was stuck in, and looked down past the fence. Below him now, was the highway that ran through most of Los Santos and eventually out to Las Venturas, and San Fierro. But that wasn't all he noticed; across the highway, was Grove Street. He just had to get there somehow ..
But Sweet turned his head around -- And another bullet narrowly missed his head. The Ballas were mad because he'd robbed a store on their turf, and they would kill him if he didn't hurry. But he was out of time. His last resort was now to jump forward. Which he did. He hit the hill with a dull thud, and began to roll down it, until he rolled onto the Highway, and was nearly run over by a Greenwood car. He stood, rubbing his head. He could feel blood trickling down his right temple, where he'd bashed his head into the ground as he rolled down into the highway. He saw gunfire beginning to pour around him, and quickly ran to the driver's side of the Greenwood, pulling out the man inside and diving into the seat. He held his head down as best he could, driving forward as bullets hit the passenger seat, and the windshield. He sat back up after the fire stopped, and realized he'd made it. Now, he only need drive back to Grove Street.
Ten minutes later, Sweet pulled up beside his large, two-story home on Grove Street. He opened the door to the Greenwood, with his hands shaking violently. As he stood out of the car, several people he barely knew, dressed in green, rushed towards him and supported him as he nearly fell. They began to speak, trying to make sure he was okay. He shook them off slightly, and walked around the car, walking up the steps to his home, opening the door, and entering. Sweet closed the door, and walked across the living-room, into the cold kitchen, slamming his gun down on the table and slumping into one of the chairs, then laying his head gently on the table.
Carl suddenly turned his head at the sound of someone entering the house. He was in the changing room of their home at the moment. He slipped his Tank-Top over his head quickly, and grabbed a black nine millimeter from the shelf, switching off the radio. He walked out of the room quietly, and then down the stairs. As he reached the last few steps, he whirled around the corner with his gun held forward in his hands. "What the f -- Sweet?" He dropped the gun and ran across the room, looking at Sweet's form in the chair. Sweet barely acknowledged Carl -- He was losing conciousness. Carl looked at his head, and noticed a deep gash where blood was slowly trickling out.
Sweet vaguely heard Carl approach him. After a moment, he heard Carl say "Shit, Sw ... We ... Get ... .. Doctor .. " Sweet couldn't understand him. Carl's voice slowed down and got deeper, and slowly, Sweet closed his eyes, losing conciousness.