STELM: Ello ladies, gentlemen, and other. I've been thinking of doing a GTA fan fiction for a long while. I've decided to make a story about a place I know home. South Harroline is based off aspects of both urban, suburban, inner city, and rural life in both Georgia and South Carolina. I know it sounds like a lot but I can fit all those southern styles in one state easy (maybe not so easy but I'll sure as hell try). I'll also be putting in a nice playlist dominated by a lot of people who are real hot down here.

I'm telling the story from an African American characters point of view. CJ in San Andreas did an excellent Job with the ghetto struggle but it was too Westside. Even though some would argue that every hood's the same (Ice Cube) Eastside hoods are a little different. Plus this one is a recent version of the hood so….yah. PM if some of the slang doesn't make sense. Rated M for language, drug use, sexual content, passion fruit, gore, Hakuna matata, awesomeness, the truth, communism, anti-communism, money bags, Rick Ross puns, pacifist ideals, and intense violence.


Chapter 1: When Shit Hits the Fan it Blows

In the Iconic Rubin Swinger Basketball Court in Liberty City a young African American man with high hopes plays a pickup game of four on four…

"Hey Konard! Pass the ball." One of the guys on my team yelled as he got open for a three.

I drove to basket and set my plant foot down for a floater drawing the defense further away from my open man. Just as soon as most of the opposing team began to crowd the paint I kicked it out. The guy open on the three point line made the shot easy, I expected nothing less.

We were up by 3 and were going to 26. That last three (or two by street basketball rules) made it 25 I knew it was going to be me who was going to shoot the last shot of the game. I had to be quick, after this I had business to take care of.

I was told earlier today to meet a Messina capo named Vince Terreli. I had seen him plenty times before. You could say I was a well entwined associate of the Messina family. I knew all the basics of the Costa Nostra. Most of it was just pizza faces attempting to take young guys out of poverty and into riches. Kind of like that Geechee Mafia Family down south in South Harroline. The difference was that the Mafia I worked with only accepted Italians. Well in that way they weren't different, they took care of their own.

All this thinking got my head out of the game, so I got my head back in the game. We were on defense and the other team's top scorer was driving to the basket. I had to capitalize on this defensive opportunity. That dynamic thought went through my head as I ran forward, my ProLap shoes practically allowing me to fly on upward. I roared as I felt my palm slam down on the ball. The adrenaline coursed through my body and I could just feel that I was in control.

It was like the feeling Brucie on Alderny Shore talked about. When you can feel every angry feeling just explode into dominance. So when I saw the ball bounce towards our goal I capitalized. I ran to it long before half of the basketball players could even react. I could feel my speed pick up and I told myself to slow down but my legs just wouldn't listen. It wouldn't help to do a simple layup. I had to go all the way. So as I got close to the goal I jumped as high as I could, brought the basketball to the base of my neck then slammed it down. I could hear screams of, "Oh shit!" and "Damn!" from the small crowd that was probably waiting on the court to clear up so they could play.

As I hung on the goal I could feel the sweat all over my body. I let go of the goal let out some victory shouts. Shaking hands with my fellow pickup b ball players I felt the rush of winning flow freely throughout my body. I then went to collect my money, to the distress of the opposing team. I was collecting the last of my money when a loud shot rang out. I cursed out loud and before I knew it I saw a white Cavalcade FXT come crashing through the gates of the park and into random pedestrians on the court, including me. I ran for the gun in my gym bag but I was too late. The truck hit me full force.

I opened my eyes and came to the conclusion I had blacked out at impact. I started to get myself up off the ground but a foreboding shadow casted over me. I literally shit my pants when I saw who it was. My first thoughts were the headlines on the news about an African American hitman who worked for Arciere, the up and coming Liberty City Mafia family. My jealousy knew no bounds as I remembered the man from the I'm Rich episode with January Natasha Vasquez, he was the guy who had stood protectively behind her, right in front of their mansion and 14 sports cars. A number they chose to maintain because it was how old January Natasha Vasquez was when she lost her virginity. He had taken out members of the Pavano and Messina family. My mind froze when I realized that I was associated with them pizza faced bastards. I was wondering how the fuck I was going to get myself out of this situation when the notorious hit man nicknamed Shotgun Kareem spoke.

"You Konard?" The gunman asked; his deep voice meaningful and moving. I nodded my head feebly hoping not to anger the killer.

He had walked around to face me by this time and I could feel the tears start to form. I would try my best to hold them in. Maybe the killer would spare my life and make me one of his accomplices. That would be terrific. This guy was the best of the best, and then he bested those people! I didn't have too much of a mind to think about it though. The shotgun he had currently pointed at me was an all black model, and I could tell it was made in the past year or two. How he got his hands on these types of weapons I never knew.

"You know a woman by the name of Madam Valvona?" The killer asked with a snicker. For a minute I thought he was going to blast my brains out.

"Yes." I said urgently and surely. Knowing I had answered his question right. I swore I was going to get out of this business. Maybe visit my mom in San Andreas. Yeah. That's what I was going to do. I only went to that whorehouse once. I heard it was high class. That wasn't anything to get shot over. Ok, I may have got a little out of hand and roughed up the girls but she was still alive, or at least I think she was when I ran out the door.

"Well she sends her regards. Asshole!" The murderer said followed by a bright flash, a boom, and a warm sensation that went through my body. However the feeling was swiftly replaced by the coldness of what I knew had to be the unforgiving hands of death. I mustered the energy to look at my wound. Right in my belly. It was the last thing I saw before I let my head rest of the concrete.

On the other side of the barrel…

"That's what happens when you fuck with Cosa Nostra business, somebody always gets killed." I said aloud. The park had cleared out by now and knowing the amount of calls that were made by this area to the police department I knew it would be a while before I would have to worry about anything. I do have to say I made quite a mess.

Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. My names Kareem Christian Louston. I come from South Harroline. I came up here when my mom passed away looking for work. I started out working as a strip club security guard; my large build made it an easy choice. The club shut down after a shooting and I ended up having to sell crack to pay the rent. After going through a year of being addicted to the shit I quit and started working for a grocery store owned by a man named Luigi. One day somebody tried to rob the place and I stopped them. It was a simple action but the owner made it feel like I had just touched the moon off vertical.

After a while the grocer owner revealed that he was part of a secret organization known by the media as the Mafia. From there the scrawny man had me doing all sort of odd jobs. From burning down the garages of Cos Nostra Capos to popping the air out of a drug mover's vehicle's tire, he had me doing it all.

As our friendship budded he began to introduce me to different members of the growing Arciere Family. I started out doing assaults, then kidnapping, and finally I got down to the dirty world of a hitman. My executions with the shotgun made me earn the name SK. Shotgun Kareem. All that and I was only 25.

Right now I just wanted to get something to eat. Maybe I would stop by Vinewood Bar & Grill near Star Junction. I always loved to visit that place. I had a good deal with a yellow bone waitress there. There had been multiple times when I'd pick her up from work and take her home with me. Good times…

My thoughts of peace were stopped as I started to reach for the handle of the truck I came in. I hadn't opened the door before a couple dozen rounds ruined the trucks glass and interior. I ducked behind my automobile evading the bullet storm. I peeked out of the mafia funded makeshift cover and saw a group of three men dressed in overcoats firing at me. I got back to safety, opened the back door, and grabbed a Molotov cocktail that lay forever useful on the backseat floor. I took a lighter out of my sports coat's pocket and lit the ragged white rag of the cocktail. I waited until I heard a used clip hit the ground from the other side of the street and I chucked the burning bottle at the general direction of the men.

As I poked my head out of cover I thanked God for my success. Two of the three suited men were burning, screaming and yelling. The luckier part of the overcoat trio covered man was trying to save his comrade giving me a perfect chance to pick up my shotgun that I had laid on the court earlier and fire at him, the barrel of my shotgun only a half foot above my truck's hood. It took me three shots but the man went down like we will all have to someday and I rushed to investigate before the police came rushing down. I wouldn't be surprised if they brought N.O.O.S.E. with them. I ravaged through the unburned man's jackets finding a total of three hundred dollars, a phone, an AK-47, and a key ring with a smart key. I thanked God once again for his constant blessing as I pressed the red button on the electronic key. The car was revealed to be only a few seconds away. I sprinted over to a black luxury four door car that you usually only saw in Star Junction and pressed the unlock button so I could slide into the extremely comfortable car. I checked to see if anybody looked to be trailing me and as I saw nobody I hit the ignition As I sped off I looked at my rearview to see that my truck was on fire. Another blessing from above, the less evidence the better.

I looked through the man's MyPhone. I saw the last call was recent. I knew that had to be had to be the person who set this all up. I would make sure this guy knew how his lackey was doing. So I tapped the space laid out for recall. I put the phone on my shoulder and pressed the touch screen to my roughly bearded cheek.

"Mario?" A surprised voice asked on the phone.

"No its. SK. Shotgun Kareem. Remember the name because I'm coming for your ass the next time I see you. Your guys are dead. Now you look on the news and tell me who won. You see me you run. You don't want to see me. Your whole crew dressing up trying to be me. How the fuck yall gonna be a mob when I'm on my job I'm killing for my money. I am the mother fucking mob! No room for guinea cocksuckers like you." I said angrily throwing the MYphone out the window. It ended up hitting a jogger. Damn I hated joggers.

As I rode on to my house in Alderny I couldn't stand the subtlety of the classical music that was now on. I needed something to get me pumped! So I turned it to the Beat 102.7. Rick Ross So Sophisticated featuring Meek Mills was playing, exactly what I needed.

A week later in SK's Mansion in Westdyke…

It was a rainy day. The type of day extended into night. The storm roared outside, the flashes of lightning shedding light on my lavish lifestyle. I lay relaxed and warm next to my current girlfriend, a woman by the name of January Natasha Vasquez.

We had met when the Arciere Family decided to get some non-Italian connections. The first of those connections were the Vasquez Family. The family controlled the moving of all the well cut cocaine. A few months of ass kissing and the Arciere Family had a friend. Almost in sync with the two crime families Jan and I had a number of intimate encounters. A few weeks after the criminal connection was made we started to date regularly. We even made a cameo appearance as a couple on the ongoing TV show, I'm Rich. The woman tried to hide a video camera in our bedroom a few times before we hit the sack but I always found it and disposed it. Couldn't have anybody knowing how I made my coffee.

I let my nose intake the smells of recent sex; a mixture of sweat, perfume, and some third world country's cotton. I had my arms around her waist and I wanted to wake her up for another round but a sound stopped me.

I could hardly hear it but I knew it was there. Something that wasn't supposed to be. I stopped breathing for 7 seconds and could only hear the softness of Jan's breathing. Then I heard the sounds again. I wasn't paranoid but I knew that the possibility of assassination was possible. I never had an attempt made on my life, well at least not in my own home, well at least not at this home. I could just imagine myself snapping an assailant's neck. I could practically feel the adrenaline building up as I thought of going out like Donnny Fortuna or maybe even Queen Basit in that bank robbing movie.

Of course all those people died but not me. I had protection. I could have hopped out my bed and started firing but no. I couldn't let them know that I was awake. They had to feel like they had the advantage of surprise over me. The excitement of a shootout in my own home pumped blood all through my body, which included the area of my male anatomy that was now laying erect on Jan's underside.

"I have an interview tomorrow. Maybe another time I'll..." Jan started softly but I quickly put my fingers up to her lips stopping her from continuing. I figured now was as good a time as ever. I let the lightning flash one more good time before I rolled out of my king sized bed (to the anguish of my recent bullet wounds) and slid an armored case out from under the mattress. A few seconds of button pressing and the suitcase was open. I swiftly withdrew a skin tight black bulletproof body suit. I got it on no problem and soon afterwards put on my silk house coat. Almost ready I pulled out a combat pistol from my nightstand and slipped on some Backside high-tops. Hell if I was going to get shot down I might as well do it in style and function.

As I walked to the door I saw Jan sneak into my closet. A place she had been familiar to staying when I was going out with this psycho bitch named Kiki Jenkins. After getting close to my closed bedroom door I almost laughed to myself. What if it was only the waiter from the Vinewood Bar & Grill, Tia? I do barely remember giving her the keys to my place on one drunk drive home. That would be silly wouldn't it? But I had to be alert anyway. So I pushed the door open quietly and flicked on the hall way lights.

As the hallway illuminated I saw a slinky Italian man in all black carrying a M4A1. The man yelled at me, "Congolare! Congolare!" I was seconds ahead of him and retreated to cover inside the master bedroom. The bullets riddle the dark blue door that blended so well with the white and gray room. It was a shame that I was going to have to hire somebody to clean the soon-to-be blood stains off the hallway walls, I thought as I remained in cover waiting for the man to reload. Before he could one of my glass windows shattered and I heard three loud beeps. Half a second later an explosion rocked the room throwing me out it and leaving me sprawled out in the hallway. I would have been dead then and there if my assailant wasn't so damn skinny. The Italian had dropped his gun in the explosion and I capitalized with ruthless efficiency blasting the man in the face, blood and grey matter spraying behind him. I raised my head in victory but a succession of three more explosions made me snap back into reality. My house was being burned down! I disregarded the screams back in my bedroom; I knew it was unlikely for any of us to survive if I went in to save her.

Knowing that the rest of the Italian's crew would be coming soon I ran to pick up the dead Italian's weapon gun and discarded my current one. I checked the carbine gun for any malfunctions and found none so I continued my silk caped crusade further down the hall way. As I turned the corner I saw a group of three all black assailants run down the hall. I mowed them down within seconds. They barely knew what hit them. I jumped over their bodies just to see a few more turn into the hallway out of the opening that lead to the stairs. They got one look at me and could barely begin to fire their matching high powered M4 guns at me before I hit one of their guys down. I took the rest down after a few poor misses on their part. I reloaded my weapon via the trio I just killed and found a grenade as I did.

After taking a few seconds break I poked my head from the cover that the side of the stairwell opening provided. I could see that my front door broken into and a group of assailants were guarding it, terrific. As soon as they saw me they began shooting up the painting of some French general that was hung for display as the first thing you saw when you walked through the door. I just stood there around the corner from those Italian devils, my heart pumping faster and faster each second. I sat the carbine down and pulled the grenade out of my house coat pocket, cooking it for a second before chucking it towards where I figured the door was.

The explosion that I knew would occur would only serve as a distraction while I made a beeline for the glass window that was set at the end of the hallway I took cover in. To my surprise I heard a bedlam of screams and I began my sprint blind firing at the door as I ran. One lucky enemy bullet managed to skin me on back leaving me staggering as I continued to head towards the window. I shot at the window to loosen it up and almost exactly on cue a lone assailant turned the corner of the hallway that cut off the one that I was running through. He fired his weapon before I could and hit my carbine causing it to fall apart. I discarded it quickly, sprinting even faster than I ever did before as he reloaded and I tackled the man.

I put the man in a headlock and he tired his hardest to grab his weapon but it was too late I used all my force and the man's neck let out a sharp snapping sound. I let go running, hearing my usually silent air conditioning vent make strange noises. Damn they were going to blow my whole place sky high! I screamed in anguish as I jumped out of the broken window.

I looked down to see I was about to land on my garage house. The pain of impact sent shocks through my body and as I got up I saw that I made quite a big dent. Didn't matter, I probably wasn't ever coming back. I jumped down and opened my garage door via electronic code and quickly got into my Comet coupe. I put the car on drive and the car practically jumped out of the garage not that anybody was on the streets except onlookers, whom I tried my best to not run over, unsuccessfully.

As I drove down Owl Creek Ave. I looked at my rearview and saw the obvious tampering of the air conditioning come into effect. The house collapsed with one final crescendo of fire. Years of crime and sin money and it was gone in mere minutes. All I had now was the limited amount of money I had on my Fleeca. Damn me and my obsession for clean cut dollar bills over digital currency.

An hour and a half later in an apartment building near Middle Park….

I ringed the doorbell twice. I swore if this guy wasn't home I was going to murder somebody. As if speaking to the door I exclaimed "Open the door! Open the fuck up!"

The Italian opened the door as if he had just heard my voice from the other side of the door and decided to not be a douche bag. He looked like shit. I could tell he had just finished snorting a line of coke and had just barely came back to his senses. I had a good eye for things like that.

"What were you doing SK? B-barbecuing in y-your b-bedroom?" The cokehead asked amused somehow not having the ability to stop grooming himself with his hands.

"Yah, that's what happened. Can I come in?" I asked hoping not to be heard by anybody who had heard me try to rush the Italian to the door.

"Oh…yes. Of course SK. Anything for a friend of m-mines. W-would you care for a drink?" The cokehead asked letting me into his condo. I had only been to Luigi's house three times and those times were far behind. The mob adviser/contractor had a strange sense of style and his home showed that. The last time I saw him here the house had a homely green and red color coordination. Now colors were all over the place. His walls were all different colors. None of them being black or brown. His living room couches were tiger striped green and he had a large flat screen TV set up.

"Let me show you to my d-dining room." The druggie said directing me to a small part of the condo where the floor tiles were pink and there was a small marble circle table proving how few people normally dined at his house. I sat down in one of the white leather seats and Luigi poured me a glass of wine. In any normal occasion I would have refused but I was too irritated to protest.

"What the fuck happened to your place Luigi? Looks like you hired your interior decorator from San Fierro." I said annoyed by the colors that my eyes had no choice not to look it at, times the fact that Luigi himself had on some slacks and a wrinkled green dress shirt, with a pink tie. He probably went out to some electro club or something. Crack heads always liked that type of music; I knew the feeling best, I was like him once. Accept I didn't live in some fancy condo.

"You're saying you don't like it?" Luigi asked slumping his shoulders down. Hey, he probably paid a lot of money for it. I guess I would go easy on him. Plus I couldn't stand the sight of a grown ass man crying. On top of that I really didn't want to go over style when my house was all black, well it's like that now.

"It's different." I said drinking from the wine glass Luigi gave me. I never liked any alcoholic beverage I couldn't just down quickly.

"So what the h-hell h-happened?" Luigi asked as he sat down in his chair and leaned forward, his ears ready to hear anything I told him. I relaxed in my chair and could feel the wounds from the basketball court job and the recent escape from my own goddamn house taunt me with every move I made. The tear through the back of my bullet proof armor sent a jolt of shock and chill through my spine and to my toes.

"Those crazy fucking Messina's, I'm fucked." I said sipping out of the glass once again.

"What about them what'd they d-do?" Luigi asked as his face twitched a little bit to the right.

"They tried to fucking kill me!" I said raising my voice, my anger knew no bounds. It was audacious attempt to say the least, now that I thought about it. I forced myself not to express it though. It took me six years for me make a reputation of myself being calm and collective and I was going to keep it.

"What?" Luigi asked if the word kill was a word not to be spoken in his household.

"Then they burned down my fucking house. I think Jan's dead too." I said solemnly. I was pretty sure she was somewhere burning in hell right now. I should have been there with her.

"Stupid fucks! La calamità!" Luigi yelled slamming his hand down on the table, his whole face getting red. Then as quickly as he slammed his hand down he mellowed out, sitting back relaxed in his chair.

"Yah. Vero e proprio pazzo." I said showing off my Italian skills as I sipped a little bit of my wine. I had learned a few languages in my time up here. Jan's father taught me basic Spanish and several members of the Arciere Family taught me all the Italian I needed to know to work with them.

"So y-you want to hit them b-back tonight?" Luigi asked as his arm twitched a few times.

"No I don't want to piss off your Family. We need to get the commission. They can handle this. I need a fucking vacation." I said lying back in my chair and drinking more of the premium wine. I judged too quickly, this wine wasn't half bad.

"Good thinking. We need to think this over." The crackhead said drinking out of his own wine glass. "So, you know that the Messina's aren't the only family in Liberty right?"

"Yah but I know it was them. I killed a few of their guys yesterday during that Konard hit I told you about; luckily we didn't need that chopper. Anyway the Pavanos aren't stupid enough and we haven't fucked anybody else yet so… gots to be them." I said thinking back on the people we have fucked. The Pavanos, the Messinas, and a few small street gangs were on the list.

"You know the family just got a new capo. Got the position a week or two ago." The crackhead said fiddling with his MYphone. I swore if he was playing mildly-disturbed avians I was going to kill him then and there.

"What the fuck does that have to do with me?" I asked wondering where the coke head was going with this.

"Well his name's Vince Terreli and there's a f-few other g-guys who wanna take his spot. So to protect his ass he needs to show the family he's about his business." Luigi began making all sorts of weird gestures with his hands as he did.

"And?" I asked wanting to know more even though I pretty much knew what this was all about.

"You're one of the best hitman in Liberty city. People know you and fear you. If he could take down a star like you the whole family would fear and respect him." Luigi said putting away his MYphone while sipping more of his wine. I was done for today, I couldn't stay up an hour later.

"Well… that's it then. I'm famous and they want my head. Mo Money mo problems." I said shaking my head and standing, wondering if the man was going to be polite enough to offer me a room.

"Well at least you're living." Luigi said thoughtfully, "Oh and the couch over there has a recliner. We have a big day tomorrow. I'll make some calls."

I sighed and flung myself on the couch with the best view to the TV, and put the recliner to good use. I kicked off my backsides and tightened up my house coat. Tired out of my mind I turned on the TV just to see a vintage Candy Suxxx video had already been playing on the crackhead's DVD player before I got here. I could remember that it was a scene from that old Vice City movie, Wet. I remember the day I snuck in my older brother's room. I had watched it numerous times. This was the scene where Candy and the male protagonist whose name I couldn't remember were stuck in a cave and well… You should know the rest. Luigi came in the living room quickly to apologies and change it to another channel. I went to sleep with the hearing a Kevin Heart standup on Weazle.


STELM: Ok guys that's the prologue out the way. I just wanted to make it clear that this story IS going to be set in Crescent City. It just starts off in Liberty. I took a lot of different things from other artist. First original thing I did was the Geechee Mafia Family, an obvious spoof of the Black Mafia Family an organized crime syndicate that started off in Detroit and settled down in Atlanta. Gulla's an English sublanguage mainly spoken by African Americans from the south (Geechee is somebody who can speak the sublanguage). Arciere means Archer in Italian. N.O.O.S.E. is a spoof of S.W.A.T. made by Rockstar. SK's rant on the phone was inspired by the ending of Tupac's Hit em Up. A song dissing Biggie, his staff, record label, and crew. So sophisticated is a new song by Rick Ross. MYphone is a spoof of Iphone made by several writers. Jan is a GTA IV celebrity. She is based off of Kim Kardashian who has made a sex tape with a black guy (Ray J). The comment SK made to himself about him not living in a fancy condo as a crackhead is a message for anybody who is stable (money wise) and does drugs to see how far down it can take you. The thing about SK not wanting anybody know how he made coffee is an ongoing thing with Rockstar comparing having coffee to sex. Madam Valvone is my creation but is under the Valvone family which has been created by Rockstar. The line about SK hating joggers comes from the random character in GTA IV, Eddie Low. Donny Fortuna is a spoof of Tony Montana (Scarface) who went down defending himself at his home. Queen Basit is based off of Queen Latifa. Latifa means delicate in Arabic while Basit means enlarged. Queen Latifa starred in a movie called Set it Off and her character went out firing at the police after and armed bank robbery. Backside is a skateboard brand named by Rockstar in GTA IV. The whole conversation between SK and Luigi is inspired by Vito and Joe's conversation in A Friend of Ours. In that chapter Vito got his house burned down. The next chapter will have parts of their conversation as well. Candy Suxx is a porn star that made cameo appearances in a few of the older GTA's, Wet is one of her movies. Luigi is based off of Ken Rosenberg from GTA: Vice City who's inspired by David Kleinfeld. Alderny Shore is a spoof of Jersey Shore. Mildly-disturbed Avians is a spoof on the mobile game Angry Birds. And this had been one long ass explanation.