Grand Theft Auto
Franklynn City
written by David L. Carey
Introduction: Welcome To Franklynn City
Franklynn City is a bustling metropolis inhabited by the normal crowds of insane people you would normally see in every major city. You have the drug dealers who set up shop on the corner of every main street to try and peddle their merchandise. You have prostitutes who enjoy walking the streets in skimpy clothing, consuming drugs they just purchased seconds ago from the dealer's. You have the crooked police officers who drive around town busting the dealers and prostitutes, but keeps what's taken from them. Then you have the gang members who pimp the prostitutes, and purchase product from the dealers, but seem to keep a low profile from the crooked cops. Shawn Hicks just happened to fall into the category of gang member. He was a part of the infamous Mob Street Mafia, and had been since he was very young. He was twenty-one years old, and loved the life of a gangster. He loved the feeling he got when he squeezed the trigger of a nine millimeter. He loved the rush he got after dropping rival gang members for "tripping on his set."
Nothing compared to what was going to happen today, though. For months the Mob Street Mafia had been planning on breaking into Chris Thompson's house. This Chris Thompson fellow just happened to be affiliated with the Green Grove Gangsters. The Green Grove Gangster's and the Mob Street Mafia had a legacy of fighting that lead back about twenty years. Shawn's father had been involved in a war between the two groups, and died defending Mob Street's honor. That's why it was only right for Shawn to lead the team of men assigned to break into the house.
"Man, I can't wait till I get my hands on that bastard," Shawn exclaimed, making hand motions like he had a neck between his chubby hands. He was talking to his best friend, and closest ally, Blaine Lockhart. The duo had been close since they were in elementary school.
"I don't think this is a good idea," Blaine replied, jamming buttons on a video game controller. Blaine was the type of person who had a negative thought about everything. If he had to use the bathroom, he could think of a reason why it was too dangerous.
"O. G. Joker would pop you in the head for saying some shit like that," Shawn remarked, slapping the controller from his friends hand. Blaine didn't reply, but anyone with a brain could tell he was furious. Shawn walked over to his dresser beside his bedroom window, and pulled open the top drawer. He pushed his assortment of boxers to the side, and found what he was looking for. A brand new nine millimeter with a full clip.
"Come on, bro. Let's go lay a Green Grove to rest," Shawn said. He walked out of his bedroom, and through his little house. All of the houses on his block were small, but they were also government paid. Shawn had lived on his own since he was sixteen years old, wandering the streets in search of a place he could call his own. His family lived somewhere in the suburbs of Franklynn City, and only came to visit when there was a death in the family, or some kind of tragedy.
"Yo, Mobster. Man up!" He was yelling at a group of Mob Street gang members leaning against a blue Sabre. The Mob Street Mafia members could easily be distinguished by the color of their clothes, a mixture of yellow and black. Two of the gang members nodded, and got in the back seat. Shawn hopped in the drivers seat, and Blaine sat next to him.
"Alright, we're going to break in through the back door, and take out anyone inside, so I hope you're all heated. If you're not, then I'll be sure to write how stupid you were on your tombstone." Shawn was always making comments like that, but it motivated the rest of his "click". He put the key in the ignition, and started the engine. The gang roared down the street; hanging their guns out of the window, and firing them off.
Green Grove Gangster's
Chris Thompson was known around the hood for being one of the biggest crack heads on the block. He used the drug so much he had lost almost all of his bodies muscle, which left him looking like a brown twig. His addiction was so bad he was even beginning to lose his hair. By himself, intimidation would have been the last thing on one's mind, but he always seemed to have a group of henchmen with him. Today, he had five men sitting inside his small house located in the heart of the Bronson District, all of them wearing the traditional Green Grove color's, green and brown. All except for one teenager who was wearing yellow and black, but he was walking out of the back door with all the speed he could muster. Every one of Chris's henchmen was sitting around the television, consuming some sort of drug. Chris was sitting on an old, dirty couch, but suddenly stumbled to his feet. He grabbed a sawed off shotgun that hidden under the couch, and turned to the rest of the guy's.
"Man, I can't believe these crazy Mob Street bitches are coming for us. Let's surprise them with an ambush," Chris noted. All of the men in the room jumped up, but half of them fell back down due to pure intoxication. Intoxicated or not, they all announced their approval of such a devious plan. They all wanted to shed the blood of the Mob Street Mafia.
Mob Street Mafia
"We're here. Listen, I want all of you guy's to come out of this alive. Don't do anything stupid, and if you make it inside all of the money in there is yours," Shawn always gave some kind of "before crime pep talk", but nobody ever listened to him. To hell with it, I'm sure we'll get out alright, he thought to himself before opening the car door. He stepped out, and realized that he may have parked a little too far away to go through with his plan. He was fifty feet away from the house, and he planned on throwing a Molotov cocktail through the back window. He only had one bottle, so this had to work the first time. He started walking toward the house, but stopped when felt a gentle tap on his shoulder.
"Yo, mane. Why don't you let me handle this, bro? You never let me do shit like this. ," It was Blaine. Shawn really did like to sacrifice his fellow gang members, and always took the heat of pulling off dangerous missions like this himself. Blaine knew that, but he seemed persistent.
"You have to promise me you'll be quite, and don't mess up. This is the only cocktail we have." Shawn meant business, and tried to sound as serious as he could.
"Yeah, I know, just give me the damned thing," Blaine replied, snatching the Molotov from Shawn's hand. Shawn stared into his friends deep green eye's, and couldn't help but feel like this was the last time he would talk to Blaine.
"Be careful," Shawn shouted, watching his friend creep closer to the house. Blaine nodded, running a hand over the top of his head to clear the thick brown hair from his eyes. Blaine was about fifteen feet from the house when it happened. Someone inside the house had apparently caught a glimpse of Blaine sneaking toward them, and broke out the rear window. Shawn started to run to his friends aid, but stopped in his tracks when he heard the gun shots. Shawn could see a black sticking out of the broken window. Whoever was firing the gun had emptied an entire round into Blaine, leaving him lying on the ground in a puddle of blood. Shawn remembered screaming something, but the memory was a little faded. He pulled out the nine millimeter pistol he had concealed in his waistband and began firing it wildly in the direction of the window. When the mysterious gunman began firing in the direction of Shawn, the other two Mob Street boys pulled him into the car. The engine was already started, which Shawn had intentionally allow to happen just incase something like this was to happen. The driver hit the gas,and turned the wheel, causing the car to spin around in a half circle. Bullets continued to fly, hitting every portion of the car. One hit the back windshield, causing shattered glass to rain down upon Shawn. He looked to his left, and noticed the gang member that had saved his life was bleeding from a gunshot wound to his stomach. Shawn applied pressure to the wound, and shouted for the driver to go faster. The sound of metal hitting metal echoed through the entire neighborhood. The Sabre made it out, but only barely...