The dim light in the room grew brighter and brighter, shining upon everything. The sun's rays bounced off a mirror and glared into the face of a young man. Everyone, almost everyone, knew who he was and what his business was. Along with the rest of his gang, he had control over the whole state like Greek Gods and their territories. His name was Carl Johnson, or better known by the neighbourhood as CJ.

He woke up rubbing his face with a white tee and some grey chonglers on. He put on a pair of socks and a sandals that he pulled from under his king-sized bed. Carl's cellphone suddenly rang, he put on a somewhat happy face when he saw the number.

"Ay Sweet, what's happenin"
"Sup baby brother, look - we gotta take care of some shit with the Families. Problem is we gotta take your car, ever since Tenpenny been took down, feds is watchin' us. The pigs stick together, y'know"
"A'ight man...I'm down"

CJ tucked the cellphone away in his pockets and quickly headed down the stairs of his mom's house. A house that held too many painful memories - but Carl still stayed, to shoo away any agencies just waiting to claim it. Outside, the sun beat down onto the pavement and blue sky had a yellow tint to it, Carl looked across from the patio and saw his brother leaning against the Greenwood. CJ opened his garage up and took out an old 1989 Picador, with some rubbish in the back, but he didn't mind - as with his other vehicles, they were all jacked.

"Sup nigga?" asked Sweet
"Sup witchu? What's goin' on"
"I dunno, might be big - might be somethin' little...one of the boys ringed me up last night, said somethin' about Russians gunnin' down one of his boys. Shit's crazy"
"Aww shit"
"Aww shit what? Speak up, nigga!"

Suddenly, a helicopter swooped in in a matter of seconds. It was a black Hunter fully equipped with grenade launcher and machine gun. It was a two seater, one manning seat for the weapons, the other flying. It hovered over the cul-de-sac and a man with a thick, rolling Russian accent spoke:

"You've fucked with the wrong people!"

The helicopter let loose a barrage of bullets, each one of them killing innocent bystanders and shattering houses. Carl and his brother ducked behind the Greenwood, which inevitably saved their lives.

"Nigga, what the fuck you into?" exclaimed Sweet; he was best known for starting the Grove - and his temper
"It's a long story man..real long.."