1.1 Infinity02: The Thing About the Bookies
The sun glinted off the windows at St. Mark's Bistro. Finally, a nice spring day, and Liberty City was reacting wonderfully, out and about at parks, at the swimming pools, and of course, at the bookies.
Well not any regular bookies:
" Hey Franke, spot me 27…I got an inside tip on the mutt in four!" Franke didn't even bother to raise his head. " Lemme get sum of dat, eh waddya call it…Fongul de Almiarti…naw fuck it. Just a steak." He muttered to the waitress, while steadily locking his sights on the one moron in the room.
A moment later, the gun fired.
The pandemonium of people plummeting helplessly through space created the image of a human flood in the restaurant, but amid all the chaos, Franke played it cool. " Hey miss…" he tapped the table with the menu, " please bring me my food."
Scuttling backwards, almost immediately, she stumbled her way towards the kitchen. Franke just laughed and pulled out a joint. " Dumb fucking cattle…" he muttered to himself.
A whirr from the floor stopped his hand midway to the trizzos. The flame danced below his eye, and further below, on the floor, a red and blue rodent of some sort crept out from under the table.
Check that, it wasn't a rodent…it was a remote controlled car. There was a note on it that Franke yanked up as the machine bumped to a soft stop against his leg.
Dear Franke,
Pork and Red Meat would
have given you heart
problems later in life anyway……
2 Fido
The next muthafukkin moment, the goddamn car blew up. Flames, tiny bits of scarful shrapnel stormed through the air for a moment, then the air combusted upon itself.
Hey…man, lemme tell ya….The muthafukin darkness hit that bastard bad.
2.1.1 Author's Interruption: Some time earlier
It had seemed like a miracle when it happened. At first Franke figured it was a set up, but then he examined his options. King Courtney sat across the table from him, stones glowing a sickly white that reminded him of that skeleton he had seen in the sea caves that one time. Immediately to his left and right stood a number of Yardie dealers, all of 'em hooded out with big gunz.
Shit, it wasn't like he could just say NO anyway. Besides, a coach bus shouldn't be too tough to command and conquer.
So Franke had taken the job and found himself posted up outside of the stadium. He looked across the street at the imposing grey of Fort Staunton, and thought about the time Fido had spanned the city in the tank posted there. The ensuing fire had consumed nearly a full third of Fort Staunton. And of course, Fido had blasted his way out and disappeared.
Franke shook his head clear; here it came, up from the right. The Coach streamlined through the dusk, as a whale must deep beneath the waves. When the hole in the road opened up before it, it was all the driver could do to stay in his seat as the bus toppled over and skidded into a ditch.
When he lifted his head up, and peered through the rising dust cloud the Coach driver swore he could see a silhouette slipping between the dusty shadows. Suddenly his vision stopped vibrating and focused, and the driver saw the muzzle of the Uzi peer through the mist. Bullets move fast though, and the driver never had a chance to see the flame dance on the tip of the gun.
Scaling the side of the bus, Franke pulled himself through the side door. Without a word, he opened up on the crew inside. Bodies flailed back against the desks and chairs that filled the room. Someone crashed through a blackboard, and chalk dust choked the air.
He felt the fire, but slid open the transponder and input the FULL HEALTH CHEAT. Then he slammed his foot down on the gas. The bus tore through a pile of earth and foliage as it bounced back onto the highway. It was only a couple of blocks to the meeting ground, and Franke knew of a couple of spots he could hit up to dissuade the police from responding. He only had two stars on his metre anyway…
2.1.2 Author Interruption: Still in the past
The bus slid past the construction site, leaving the University in the distance. He was about seventy or so yards away from the left, and he had no cops anywhere in sight. Things couldn't have gone better if he planned them.
Then the tan Patriot ripped through the side of the Coach.
Bricks flew threw the air, and sparks caught the lights on some streetlamps. The next moment an entire front of the building was covered in orange, hungry flame. Franke dropped his gaze, the metre had four stars.
He pulled himself through the Coach's driver side window. Someone was going to pay for this insult. As well as this now lost investment of time and effort. Dropping off of the capsized beast, Franke yanked out an AK. He reached into his pocket and devoured a couple of adrenaline pills. The lancing daggers of pain that danced through his form with each breath were suddenly soothed in a flow of sweet tranquility. His vision rolling out before him, Franke opened the spout of his M16 on the movement off to his right. The Patriot kept coming, ignoring the bullets that panged harmlessly off the roof and windshield. Then the driver's side door popped open and return fire was issued from the brother M16.
Bullets tore a hole in Franke's right shoulder, and, as it spilt into the air with a red haze, he fell backwards against the coach. The Patriot skidded to a halt forty yards away and the driver walked towards Franke.
" You figured you'd just slide with the money to MY bookies eh. Not today kiddo."
Just before the grenade under his vest exploded, Franke quickly inputted the FULL HEALTH CHEAT and the FULL BODY ARMOUR CHEAT. Then he got the impression of black leather and green canvas.
And then the grenade exploded.
2.1.3 Author's Interruption: Still in the past. Okay! Lets do it fella! Chuckle
He collapsed on top of the four story-parking garage in Newport. Six stars on his metre, and a mushroom cloud floating down the block, he needed to lay low for a second.
Fido hadn't been killed. Franke breathed deeply, and glanced around cautiously. Those fucking Yardies! He should have realized that whenever a white boy does a Yardie's dirty work he ends up dead. Nothing could be done about that right now, but he could pay a visit to King Courtney's blocks and pay off the kingpin a little.
Not pausing, he vaulted over the side of the roof, and plummeted a hundred yards down to the unforgiving concrete. His body thudded harshly off of the ground, and he quickly threw in FULL HEALTH before heading up the alley.
A pair of red Yardie cars rolled down the strip in front of him. One skipped to and fro on its switches, the slowed in front of a streetwalker. As she leaned down to the driver's side window, Franke opened the nozzle on the blowtorch.
Flames danced across the grill of both cars and then ate at the car's occupants. The ensuing explosion threw Franke and the chick away from the car. Fiddling with the transponder at his wrist, Franke rose from the ground and strode down the street. He unleashed a barrage of rockets at the group of cars halted by the traffic light. The flare of red light shone off the harbour and sparks and ash sprinkled the apartments that lined the bay.
A Yakuza Stinger sprang to life and tore away from the complex.
Four Yardies leapt out of the shadows and began to unload their nines at Franke. Ignoring the petty fire, he opened up a burst from his AK and sent them tumbling to the ground beneath them. Then he yanked a Yardie car open and ripped off towards a stand at the corner.
Tha Yardie Spank pusher barely had time to throw himself clear as the car bounced on two wheels through it. A moment later it exploded and burned the stand, the dealer, and the Spank into black steaming goodness.
Then Franke yanked a cab and sped off towards an alley. A Stinger idled in the shadows for a moment, then waited as a horde of LCPD blew past him. Satisfied that everything was cool, Fido took off towards his Bellview Park Garage.
2.1.4 Author's Interruption: Almost there I promise
Franke eased the cab to a stop in St. Marks. The L-train showered harmless sparks down on the cars parked there, and the lights in the Bistro glowed brightly in the night sky. Behind it , of course, lie the bookies that Franke figured were the cause of this. Well since he was getting jerked already, he might as well have some fun.
Flooring the gas and releasing the break, Franke pushed the Sentinel across the street and up the staircase. With a shuddering explosion of glass and light, Franke tore the car through the side of the building, and dragged the debris down onto the bookies. As the ceiling gave way, Franke dove out of the side of the car, and began to unload his Uzi. As he hit the ground, and rolled he rolled a pair of grenades across the floor. He rose to a crouch just as the explosions sprayed more dust and shrapnel across the room.
Two stars sprang to life on the metre, but Frank, quickly brought his M16 into play. Raking the air with a hollow screech, the clip unloaded into the dazed occupants of the bookies. As the last group dropped, hollowly to the floor, Franke spun on his heels and headed to the ground floor entrance to the Bistro. He was hungry.
2.1.5 Author's Interruption: Ok now we're back on tack. Kinda Terrintino eh?
Franke gasped a wet sullen cough as he dragged himself out from beneath the rubble. The entire building was gone, but he had been lucky enough to get blown behind the bar by the detonation. His arm was broken, check that it was gone, and with it went his transponder. His only hope was to…
A swift and violent kick to his jaw, not only shattered the bones there, but slowed his thought process as well. Franke rolled his eyes up and caught an impression of black leather and green cargo, before the harsh heel of a shoe ground its way into his face.
Fido reached into his pocket and pulled out a stone. Moonlight shattered into a million different shades of blue and yellow and red and green as it struck the diamond. Franke couldn't help but blink in surprise. Fido grinned and pulled out his nine. Forcing it into Franke's mouth he pulled the trigger.
Franke's body jerked as the bullet tore his life away. Then it pounded dully off the ground. Fido grinned, reduced his wanted level, and jumped into his Stinger. And sped away.
He didn't like gambling anyway.
Thanks for reading, Al-I-Bus, A1Boogz@aol.com
The sun glinted off the windows at St. Mark's Bistro. Finally, a nice spring day, and Liberty City was reacting wonderfully, out and about at parks, at the swimming pools, and of course, at the bookies.
Well not any regular bookies:
" Hey Franke, spot me 27…I got an inside tip on the mutt in four!" Franke didn't even bother to raise his head. " Lemme get sum of dat, eh waddya call it…Fongul de Almiarti…naw fuck it. Just a steak." He muttered to the waitress, while steadily locking his sights on the one moron in the room.
A moment later, the gun fired.
The pandemonium of people plummeting helplessly through space created the image of a human flood in the restaurant, but amid all the chaos, Franke played it cool. " Hey miss…" he tapped the table with the menu, " please bring me my food."
Scuttling backwards, almost immediately, she stumbled her way towards the kitchen. Franke just laughed and pulled out a joint. " Dumb fucking cattle…" he muttered to himself.
A whirr from the floor stopped his hand midway to the trizzos. The flame danced below his eye, and further below, on the floor, a red and blue rodent of some sort crept out from under the table.
Check that, it wasn't a rodent…it was a remote controlled car. There was a note on it that Franke yanked up as the machine bumped to a soft stop against his leg.
Dear Franke,
Pork and Red Meat would
have given you heart
problems later in life anyway……
2 Fido
The next muthafukkin moment, the goddamn car blew up. Flames, tiny bits of scarful shrapnel stormed through the air for a moment, then the air combusted upon itself.
Hey…man, lemme tell ya….The muthafukin darkness hit that bastard bad.
2.1.1 Author's Interruption: Some time earlier
It had seemed like a miracle when it happened. At first Franke figured it was a set up, but then he examined his options. King Courtney sat across the table from him, stones glowing a sickly white that reminded him of that skeleton he had seen in the sea caves that one time. Immediately to his left and right stood a number of Yardie dealers, all of 'em hooded out with big gunz.
Shit, it wasn't like he could just say NO anyway. Besides, a coach bus shouldn't be too tough to command and conquer.
So Franke had taken the job and found himself posted up outside of the stadium. He looked across the street at the imposing grey of Fort Staunton, and thought about the time Fido had spanned the city in the tank posted there. The ensuing fire had consumed nearly a full third of Fort Staunton. And of course, Fido had blasted his way out and disappeared.
Franke shook his head clear; here it came, up from the right. The Coach streamlined through the dusk, as a whale must deep beneath the waves. When the hole in the road opened up before it, it was all the driver could do to stay in his seat as the bus toppled over and skidded into a ditch.
When he lifted his head up, and peered through the rising dust cloud the Coach driver swore he could see a silhouette slipping between the dusty shadows. Suddenly his vision stopped vibrating and focused, and the driver saw the muzzle of the Uzi peer through the mist. Bullets move fast though, and the driver never had a chance to see the flame dance on the tip of the gun.
Scaling the side of the bus, Franke pulled himself through the side door. Without a word, he opened up on the crew inside. Bodies flailed back against the desks and chairs that filled the room. Someone crashed through a blackboard, and chalk dust choked the air.
He felt the fire, but slid open the transponder and input the FULL HEALTH CHEAT. Then he slammed his foot down on the gas. The bus tore through a pile of earth and foliage as it bounced back onto the highway. It was only a couple of blocks to the meeting ground, and Franke knew of a couple of spots he could hit up to dissuade the police from responding. He only had two stars on his metre anyway…
2.1.2 Author Interruption: Still in the past
The bus slid past the construction site, leaving the University in the distance. He was about seventy or so yards away from the left, and he had no cops anywhere in sight. Things couldn't have gone better if he planned them.
Then the tan Patriot ripped through the side of the Coach.
Bricks flew threw the air, and sparks caught the lights on some streetlamps. The next moment an entire front of the building was covered in orange, hungry flame. Franke dropped his gaze, the metre had four stars.
He pulled himself through the Coach's driver side window. Someone was going to pay for this insult. As well as this now lost investment of time and effort. Dropping off of the capsized beast, Franke yanked out an AK. He reached into his pocket and devoured a couple of adrenaline pills. The lancing daggers of pain that danced through his form with each breath were suddenly soothed in a flow of sweet tranquility. His vision rolling out before him, Franke opened the spout of his M16 on the movement off to his right. The Patriot kept coming, ignoring the bullets that panged harmlessly off the roof and windshield. Then the driver's side door popped open and return fire was issued from the brother M16.
Bullets tore a hole in Franke's right shoulder, and, as it spilt into the air with a red haze, he fell backwards against the coach. The Patriot skidded to a halt forty yards away and the driver walked towards Franke.
" You figured you'd just slide with the money to MY bookies eh. Not today kiddo."
Just before the grenade under his vest exploded, Franke quickly inputted the FULL HEALTH CHEAT and the FULL BODY ARMOUR CHEAT. Then he got the impression of black leather and green canvas.
And then the grenade exploded.
2.1.3 Author's Interruption: Still in the past. Okay! Lets do it fella! Chuckle
He collapsed on top of the four story-parking garage in Newport. Six stars on his metre, and a mushroom cloud floating down the block, he needed to lay low for a second.
Fido hadn't been killed. Franke breathed deeply, and glanced around cautiously. Those fucking Yardies! He should have realized that whenever a white boy does a Yardie's dirty work he ends up dead. Nothing could be done about that right now, but he could pay a visit to King Courtney's blocks and pay off the kingpin a little.
Not pausing, he vaulted over the side of the roof, and plummeted a hundred yards down to the unforgiving concrete. His body thudded harshly off of the ground, and he quickly threw in FULL HEALTH before heading up the alley.
A pair of red Yardie cars rolled down the strip in front of him. One skipped to and fro on its switches, the slowed in front of a streetwalker. As she leaned down to the driver's side window, Franke opened the nozzle on the blowtorch.
Flames danced across the grill of both cars and then ate at the car's occupants. The ensuing explosion threw Franke and the chick away from the car. Fiddling with the transponder at his wrist, Franke rose from the ground and strode down the street. He unleashed a barrage of rockets at the group of cars halted by the traffic light. The flare of red light shone off the harbour and sparks and ash sprinkled the apartments that lined the bay.
A Yakuza Stinger sprang to life and tore away from the complex.
Four Yardies leapt out of the shadows and began to unload their nines at Franke. Ignoring the petty fire, he opened up a burst from his AK and sent them tumbling to the ground beneath them. Then he yanked a Yardie car open and ripped off towards a stand at the corner.
Tha Yardie Spank pusher barely had time to throw himself clear as the car bounced on two wheels through it. A moment later it exploded and burned the stand, the dealer, and the Spank into black steaming goodness.
Then Franke yanked a cab and sped off towards an alley. A Stinger idled in the shadows for a moment, then waited as a horde of LCPD blew past him. Satisfied that everything was cool, Fido took off towards his Bellview Park Garage.
2.1.4 Author's Interruption: Almost there I promise
Franke eased the cab to a stop in St. Marks. The L-train showered harmless sparks down on the cars parked there, and the lights in the Bistro glowed brightly in the night sky. Behind it , of course, lie the bookies that Franke figured were the cause of this. Well since he was getting jerked already, he might as well have some fun.
Flooring the gas and releasing the break, Franke pushed the Sentinel across the street and up the staircase. With a shuddering explosion of glass and light, Franke tore the car through the side of the building, and dragged the debris down onto the bookies. As the ceiling gave way, Franke dove out of the side of the car, and began to unload his Uzi. As he hit the ground, and rolled he rolled a pair of grenades across the floor. He rose to a crouch just as the explosions sprayed more dust and shrapnel across the room.
Two stars sprang to life on the metre, but Frank, quickly brought his M16 into play. Raking the air with a hollow screech, the clip unloaded into the dazed occupants of the bookies. As the last group dropped, hollowly to the floor, Franke spun on his heels and headed to the ground floor entrance to the Bistro. He was hungry.
2.1.5 Author's Interruption: Ok now we're back on tack. Kinda Terrintino eh?
Franke gasped a wet sullen cough as he dragged himself out from beneath the rubble. The entire building was gone, but he had been lucky enough to get blown behind the bar by the detonation. His arm was broken, check that it was gone, and with it went his transponder. His only hope was to…
A swift and violent kick to his jaw, not only shattered the bones there, but slowed his thought process as well. Franke rolled his eyes up and caught an impression of black leather and green cargo, before the harsh heel of a shoe ground its way into his face.
Fido reached into his pocket and pulled out a stone. Moonlight shattered into a million different shades of blue and yellow and red and green as it struck the diamond. Franke couldn't help but blink in surprise. Fido grinned and pulled out his nine. Forcing it into Franke's mouth he pulled the trigger.
Franke's body jerked as the bullet tore his life away. Then it pounded dully off the ground. Fido grinned, reduced his wanted level, and jumped into his Stinger. And sped away.
He didn't like gambling anyway.
Thanks for reading, Al-I-Bus, A1Boogz@aol.com
