"Where to?"

"110th Brouge Ave, Davis."

"I'm sorry. Ain't going to happen. Every time I go that direction those fucking Ballas gangbangers think its xmas. I can take you as far as Macdonald Street."

"Whatever."

"Meter ain't working but that's going to cost you a hundred bucks."

"Just…..start…driving."

The slightly built dark-skinned man eased into the backseat of the cab and closed his eyes as the Hispanic driver ignited the engine then eased into the flow of traffic. He closed his eyes so as to avoid looking at the wetback prick who was trying to rob him blind. He closed his eyes in the hope that not looking at the driver would quell the overwhelming urge to push the Hispanic's head right through the windshield. There was once a time where he would have put two in the driver's head before seizing his cab but those days were behind him and had been behind him for a long time, but by god the urges still remained. The black man reached into his pockets looking for a distraction to pass the long cab ride, he felt his wallet and took it out. A quick flick of his fingers opened his wallet to examination. Three thousand and fifty dollars cash. Crisp bills all fifties and hundreds. No coins. Two debit cards, Maze Bank and Pacific Standard. One driver's license. Other various cards that signified bits and pieces of his life. Amunation membership, Bahamas Mamas VIP, Massionette 9 entrance, Burgarshot Heartstopper voucher, Sub Urban's discount. Despite the seemingly chaotic lay out of the contents there was heavy-handed meticulousness to the chaos; it was a very accurate description of his life.

The name on the driver's license said Troy Joseph Martinez. Thirty years of age. Registered to an address Marian South Harroline. Troy knew of at least one man who would pay top dollar to know that that name was once again in San Andreas County. All the more reason to finish his business quickly and then head back to the relative safety of South reluctantly brought himself out of his reverie and opened his eyes. The man settled himself to observe the concrete jungle that is Los Santos as it flew by at sixty five miles per hour. It was a beautiful morning, just a little after nine. They were cruising down New Empire Way on a direct route from Los Santos International. Like most major cities the area immediately surrounding airport was exceedingly developed, Los Santos was no exception. They drove pass well maintained and brightly painted hotels, motels, car rentals, bars, and clubs. The cab passenger also knew from personal experience that by now these streets would be crawling with the less savory flavors of society despite law enforcement best effort to keep them out; pimps, hookers, dealers, and stealers. Everything any tourist could ever want was within a six block radius of the airport. Troy watched the urban sprawl with an impassive face but his mind was whirlwind of emotions. Anger, regret, nostalgia. He had missed home more than he would care to admit. Eight years was indeed a long time.

"Soooo…..first time in Los Santos?"

Troy slowly shifted his attention from the window back to the front of the car. He had almost forgotten about the cab driver.

"Sure. You could say that." Troy answered shortly. No real reason not to mention that he was originally from Los Santos, no real reason but force of habit.

"Then some friendly advice. The area you're heading to is not nice. Especially for a rich looking fella like you."

"You don't say." Troy said with the slightest trace of amusement. "I think I can handle myself."

The driver gave Troy a careful look in the mirror and was quiet for a moment. Troy knew exactly what he saw. The five thousand dollar black Italian silk suit from Didier Sachs fitted him like a second skin and gave an immediate air of sophistication. The gold Crowex, gold chain, diamond cufflinks, and leather loafers completed the image. The man who wore the clothing was much more unassuming. His African American descent was proudly declared in his broad features; sloping forehead, a rather overly large nose, and wide lips. His rather weak chin was covered by a well maintained goatee. He peered out at the world through sharp coffee brown eyes that were constantly roaming back and forth, ever alert for any sign of a threat. The man was rather short, standing at five feet nine inches and couldn't have weighed more than one hundred and forty five pounds. Yet under the expensive clothing his torso and arms were perfectly chiseled and granite hard. His black hair was cut in a low fade fashion. Two tattoos were all that visibly remained of Troy's previous life. One was the letters BAB in stylized script on the left side of his neck. The other was the letters FK tattooed on the bottom of his left wrist. The first stood for Brough Avenue Ballas and the second stood for Families Killa.

"Oh," The driver said his eyes widening with recognition. He had just sighted Troy's neck tattoo. "Oh. I see."

The man quickly went silent and after a few minutes he awkwardly fumbled with the radio dials. There was a quick buzz of static, a few disjointed conversation and songs, and then the jingle of Weazel News.

Headlines today. Gang violence reaches an all time high, president declares the situation critical. Tragedy in Palomino Creek when a family of six is burnt to death in their home. Methamphetamine, the nation's leading export. Our top story. Another striking incident of gang violence racks the nation. Earlier today the infamous Chamberlain Hills was once again turned into the battleground of two local street gangs, the Chamberlain Gangsters Families and Plow Ave Ballas, looking to expand their influence.

"Rise the volume." Troy commanded. The driver complied wordlessly. The former ex banger couldn't help but feel a bit sadden whenever he heard such reports. It had been eight years since Troy had last flown a Ballas flag and it seemed nothing had changed in that time. Ballas and Families were still doing the same bullshit dance; it really was an unbreakable cycle. Its fucked up, Troy thought to himself, black blasting on blacks while the fucking wetbacks creep up from behind and fuck us all in the ass. But these niggas too dumb to see it. Even sequestered as he had been up in South Harroline the changing gang dynamics of major cities such as Los Santos hadn't escaped.

In a horrendous act of senseless violence that has become all too commonplace in modern Los Santos these self proclaimed kings of the streets opened fire upon each other in the middle of the day upon a very busy intersection. The carnage only worsened when local law enforcement responded to the threat and were quickly engaged by the heavily armed gangsters. Fifty people were killed and as many wounded before the National Office Of Security Enforcement managed to reach the scene and control the situation. This latest incident may be the proverbial straw that breaks the camel's back as thousands of citizens took to the street in protest. The mayor has promised a crackdown effective immediately and the state has pledged its full support. this morning an enraged Barry Owasu addressed the nation.

Troy listened keenly as the charismatic black president gave an eloquent speech about the state of crime in the nation and his plans to attack all gangbangs as ruthlessly and mercilessly as they were fond of attacking each other. Troy had scant patience for politician but he did respect Barry Owasu, he guessed it was much in the same way that an outlaw respected a very tenacious and brilliant lawman. Haters be damned, the first black president was not a benchmark in American history that one could scoff at. Even though Owasu was not a hundred percent black Troy still saw him as the epitome of what a black man could become if he put his mind to it. Despite what was said by many Owasu actually did good work in Troy's opinion. He may not be the best president that America had ever had but he was far from the worst.

The rest of the hour passed slowly with Troy listening to the various crimes happening around Los Santos. After awhile, he once again reclined back into the seat and closed his eyes. He was just settling down for a nap when the cold fluttery feeling in his gut, the same feeling that he had come to know and respect after serving two tours of duty and spending a life time on the street, told him that there was a very likely possibility that his day was about to go very sour very quickly. The cab had stopped in a lane of traffic at a red light. Without making it overly conspicuous Troy opened his eyes and fixed his attention upon the rearview mirror.

It took almost five minutes for the light to change and the cab to start moving again. It was only then that Troy spotted what he was looking for and then he saw it only because he knew exactly what to look for. Black. Albany Washington. Deeply tinted windows. A perfect tail except for the fact that they were always exactly three car lengths away, it was too text book. Whoever his tail was they weren't real professionals. Real professionals would have known to vary the routine.

The cab was now located on intersection of Villa and Brimstone Ave. Troy did some mental calculations. He was still almost three miles away from Brough Avenue. He mentally added a few facts to the scenario. He was unarmed whereas whoever was trailing him was probably armed to the teeth. There was a very likely chance that whoever was in that vehicle would try to kill him or capture him and take him to someone who would eventually kill him, whatever this was it was definitely not a social call. Troy silently cursed settled himself down for a wait. There was nothing else he could do until the cab stopped. Hopefully the tail would be satisfied with just tailing for now. Although the fact that he had picked up a tail within an hour of his arrival made Troy exceedingly nervous. His coming had been known forehand by only a handful of people, each of them a friend. Betrayal was never a good feeling.

The cab turned down into Yaxley Street which was a little less traffic filled, the cab driver picked up the pace. So did the tail. Troy inadvertently sat up and glared at the following car through the rearview, disbelieving that they would make their move so blatantly. The Washington's superior acceleration soon won out. Within a few seconds the black car was almost on the taxi's bumper. The cab driver finally noticed.

"What the fuck?" He said.

"Drive!" Troy shouted out. "Now! Floor it!"

The cab driver looked back at Troy confused and hesitated. The hesitation proved fatal. A dark-clad man rose up out of the sunroof of the Washington wielding an ugly looking HK416 assault rifle like a gun totting bat from hell. Troy reacted with explosive speed; he tossed himself to the bottom of the car and tried his best to curl into a ball. Almost before he had touched the floor bullets started ripping the cab into Swiss cheese, followed by the thunderous din of gunfire. The windshield above Troy exploded inward showering him with glass and powder yet the rain of fire did not let up. Suddenly the car swerved to the left.

"I'm not going to enjoy this." Troy muttered to himself.

A few seconds later the nasty crunch of metal upon concrete sounded out as the cab bounced over the sidewalk and went headlong into the side of building. Troy's head slammed around so hard he was afraid his neck would break, as it was stars and colors exploded before his eyes and excruciating pain racked his body.

"Boy did I call it." He groaned out.

Troy allowed himself to wallow in pain and self pity for a few moments before climbing up from the floor of the vehicle. He crawled over the backseat and then out the broken back windshield. In his haste the spear like shards of remaining glass shredded both clothing and skin causing him to cry out in pain until he finally slid unto the sidewalk with a huff.

A quick look behind him revealed that the taxi man would not be joining him; in fact the only place the cab driver would be going would be the morgue. Troy had little time to mourn the deceased driver. The screech of tires upon asphalt brought him quickly back to reality. He was far from out of hot water. Gunshots once again resounded throughout the street and something hot grazed Troy's temple. He jumped to the left and quickly ducked behind the bumper of the crashed cab. In a split second Troy saw that the building the cab had crashed into was some sort of store. A flickering neon sign above titled the place Suckalot Videos. There was no display window, only a rickety looking black door. Ain't no better alternative, He thought with a shrug.

Troy made out for the door in a sprint. Bullets nipped at his heels causing him to cringe inwardly but he managed to make it to the door without suffering a debilitating injury. No time to stop and open it. He turned slightly to the side and slammed into the door shoulder first. One hundred and sixty pounds of high speed force versus an old rickety door. The door did not stand a chance. Both the man and the wooden barrier went flying into the store.

With a groan Troy lifted himself up off the ground. He froze for a moment upon looking around. He should have known. Suckalot Videos…it just screamed porn shop. Even in danger as he was Troy couldn't help but take a few seconds to observe the various sex Paraphernalia, everything from dildos to cassettes of the legendary Bite starring Candy Suxx.

"I love that movie." Troy muttered to himself.

The store was empty except for a wide-eyed frumpy cashier. Her mouth was opened in a perfect o as Troy hurried over to her.

"I suggest you get the hell out of here." He told her urgently as he seized her by the arm. "There are a lot of pissed off men with a lot of big guns coming in a few."

He dragged her from around the counter and pushed her towards the door.

"Go on! Scram! Beat it!"

The woman screamed and ran for the door. Troy began a silent countdown as soon as she was out the building. By the time he reached five there was a rapid burst of gunfire. His heart once again began pounding. If there was one thing that he was sure of it was that the men out there weren't jumpy amateurs that would shoot at anything that ran. They were trained killers. He had sent the woman out there as bait and they had taken it. They had just proven without a shadow of the doubt that they were here to kill him. This was no kill or capture mission it was a hit. Troy was trapped in a shop and the only way out was pass heavily armed men who had come to kill him. He was unarmed and cornered and he as well as the would-be murderers knew it.

Despite the grim reality of the situation not for a moment did Troy panic. What he did was calmly survey the room looking for a weapon, for some means of defending himself. His eyes alighted on a display case and they widened with disbelief. Troy actually laughed. That will have to do. He jogged over and smashed the chosen case with an elbow. Still chuckling to himself in wonder Troy reached in and pulled out something he had only ever seen in a porno. It was a four foot long six inches wide flesh colored dildo mounted on a chainsaw. With a shrug he placed the dildo on the ground and stomped it until it broke off from the chainsaw body. He hefted his makeshift club and gave it a few stiff swings. Solid harden plastic. Not the best bludgeoning instrument but it would do it in a pinch. He set the club aside then seized up a couple vibrating eggs. With impeccable aim Troy threw the eggs upwards one after the other and broke all the light bulbs casting the entire store into darkness. Since there were no windows the only source of light came from the broken door.

Troy picked up his overlarge dildo and made his way deeper into the store; he settled into the darkest corner of the shop and waited. He consoled himself with the fact that the aggressors at least did not have any grenades or else he would already be dead. They would have to come in and finish him personally. He was planning on being as unaccommodating as possible. It had been no more than a minute since the cab had crashed and it took the assassins another ten seconds before they made their move. Three men. Clad in full black and all wearing balaclavas. Each man carried an HK416 assault rifle equipped with a flashlight. Damn. In the distance Troy faintly heard the wail of sirens. Double damn. Whatever happened in the store would have to happen quickly. Escaping the men to be caught by cops would be absolutely no consolation.

The men spread out trying to cover as much ground as possible. They were alert and itchy fingered and as eager to wrap the drama up before the cops arrive as Troy was. One of them was almost upon Troy's hiding spot. He had only to flash his weapon in Troy's direction and the game would be all over. It was time to start the fireworks. Troy dashed out of his hiding spot. Four steps brought him within range. The gunman was well trained and his reaction time marvelous. He wheeled towards the sound of footsteps already squeezing the trigger but Troy had closed the distance. Bullets whizzed so close to Troy's side that he felt their heat while the sound of gunshots in an enclosed space deafened him, not paying that any mind Troy swung the dildo with all his might. It exploded upon the side of the man's head with a thunderous crack. The man staggered slightly dazed. Troy did not miss a beat. He lunged for weapon and seized it by the barrel. The man tried to yank it back but Troy slammed his left knee upwards directly in the man's groin.

His would be killer staggered back with a pain filled moan, that was all the break Troy needed to pull the rifle away. Then quick as lighting he seized the man by the front, spun him around, and wrapped a forearm tightly around his throat. He got the man in place just as gunshots once again sounded through the room. The other two gunmen had now joined the fray. Showing a remarkable lack of empathy for their companion the other two fired at will not heeding the hostage in the slightest. Troy ducked down deep behind the man, thankful for the first time in his life that an enemy was wearing a bulletproof vest. He felt the man's body vibrating as bullet after bullet smashed into it. Blood and brain matter rained upon Troy face as a bullet punctured the hostage's skull. He wrinkled his nose in disgust and shook his head to try and clear the stinging blood from his eyes.

With a growl Troy stomped the corpse in the small of the back and sent it flying into the direction of the lead storm. Almost as soon as he had kicked he had tossed himself to the left to take cover behind some shelves. Hearing running footsteps Troy blind fired around the corner with the recently acquired assault rifle. He was rewarded with the satisfying sound of a pain-laden scream.

"Come on you punk ass mothafuckas!" Troy shouted out. "I'll murder all of ya! I'm a send you back to your boss in a matchbox!"

He continued shooting, answering the shots being fired at him shot for shot. The sounds of sirens had gotten even louder in the interval. To Troy, that was as good a signal as any that it was really time to haul ass out of there. Holding the gun up towards the ceiling Troy kept on firing while jogging to the opposite end of the shelf. The doorway was clear and only a few feet away; he was hidden from the two gunmen by the shelf. It was risky, but so was staying in the store. Troy took several deep breathes before streaking towards the door for all he was worth. Shots sounded out behind him but he managed to clear the doorway without being hit. Once outside he did not stop running. Instead he increased his speed trying to put as much distance between him and the pack of killers at his back.

There, parked with the front wheels on the sidewalk and the engine still running was the assassins' black Washington. A man clad in black but not wearing a ski mask stood by the driver's door, his back to the store as he kept a lookout. Troy didn't hesitate. He raised the rifle and fired. The man's head erupted like a melon hit with a hammer. Troy paid the corpse not a glance as he tossed open the door and leapt into the Washington. He gunned the engine and pulled out so quickly he slammed into a pink Feltzer. Just then the two remaining gunmen exited the porn shop guns blazing. Cursing under his breath Troy went low in the seat so as to have his head below the dashboard. It wasn't a moment too soon as bullets shattered the windshield showering him with fragments. Slamming the vehicle into drive Troy yanked at the steering wheel and floored it. The Washington swerved unto the street and then shot forward like a race horse out of its stable.

"Better luck next time bitches!" Troy bellowed out with a laugh. His only reply was more bullets. Troy kept on laughing as he swerved through traffic, competing with dozens of other drivers who were as eager as him to get away from the bullets. This little diversion had just added a whole slew of complications but Troy wasn't too overly alarmed. To be honest nothing in his life had ever been simple so a few complications added an air of familiarity which comforted him. As it was he had the sinking feeling that a lot more bullets would be flying before it was all said and done. Troy switched on the radio to Radio Los Santos and hummed along 'Bitches Love Sosa' by Chief Keef as he continued heading towards Brouge Street. Back home for less than two hours and already one attempt on his life. Welcome home to good old Los Santos.

((So after a long hiatus Big Zane is back on the gta fanfiction scene. Meet Troy Joseph Martinez. My latest OC character, a man of many talents and few scruples with a very interesting past. This story takes place after the events of GTA 5 but may include elements from GTA IV so expect to see returning characters from both.

PS I haven't forgotten about Ant and the cast of MOB Story but right now I've kinda lost the muse for them. Fair not though, Ant was one of my favorite characters so he shall be returning. Maybe he even makes an appearance in this tale. Who knows. ;)

As for a few of the vocab I think may need clearing up.

Massionette 9-The Club ran by Gay Tony Prince in GTA IV The Ballad of Gay Tony.

Marian South Harroline- Parody City of Atlanta Georgia created by Stelm for his fanfiction GTA: South Harroline.

President Barry Owasu- Parody of President Barrack Obama used by so many people that I forget who actually created it. .-.

That's all for now. Read, Enjoy, then leave a review.