Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas

OK, okay, okay! I know a helluva lot of info has been released on San Andreas - some of this fic is based on fact (facts on San Andreas) and some shit I just made up (as in fiction..).

Hope ya'll enjoy it!

Jon

Liberty City

[1990, 0900 hours, Red Light District, Portland]

Carl rolled over the bonnet of his Blista Compact and turned immediately with arm-over-hood, pointing his Glock at a Mafioso. Carl let a grin form with his mouth as he pulled on the trigger three times in quick succession - the Mafiosos shoulders tossed back in turn before the third stuck under his chin on his tilted head. It smashed through the brain and skull before the guy had even hit the floor. Carl's green parka had driplets of blood on from the fountain of blood his foes had sprayed. He quickly opened the door and dived in, sticking the key into the ignition and starting the car. He immediately stuck the car into forward gear and dropped his foot onto the accelerator, burning through onto the main road.

Triads shot at his car and at the Mafia who in turn, were shooting at the Triads and Carl, too. He followed the road past the outskirts of China town and passed a diner where a Triad Truck was in wait for him. He wound the window down and fired a quick volley of bullets into the Trucks hood and smoke started to rise from out the gaps. He sped round the corner and up to the T-junction. He swirved left towards the bridge and continued his semi-circle turn onto it. The Truck was still in pursuit so he used his cars nimble features to weave in and out of the heavy traffic, listening to the rhythmatic BLEEPS and WOOPS behind him. He stuck the gearshift it into top and floored it.

He dodged past the cars coming in from his sides and reached the other side of the Island in seconds before swinging a violent 90 degree right onto the main highway. Soon, he was traversing the long wind up to the Shoreside bridge...he heard docking bells - was the bridge going up...or down? He couldn't risk it, he was going to have to stop and face the truck. He slammed the handbrake up and tried to bring the swerving car under control. As soon as it stopped, he got out and slammed a fresh clip into his handgun. He ducked behind the hood, crouching in wait. He heard only one door slam as the Triad truck skidded in next to the Blista.

He now lay flat on his stomach trying to see the foes feet - sure enough, he saw those blue bottoms and white sneakers coming towards him - only one pair. He crouched again, unsure of the Triads firepower. Surely if it was decent he'd have try to blow the car away, but no - a pistol or bat maybe. Then he heard what he had dreaded since the Triad left his car - the "chick-chick" of a loading Firensi 12 Gauge. Carl didn't know what to do - then he saw smoke still rising from the trucks bonnet. He figured that blowing it up would kill the Triad too...possibly killing him too, but it was his only hope. So, he crawled to the other side of the Blista and hid next to the boot - he aimed at the bonnet and fired his whole clip into it.

It started to burn...Carl had seconds to leg it, or be smushed by his own tumbling car. He heard the Triad start to run...he was now behind the Triad! Carl ejected his spent clip and pulled his last, full clip out and inserted it onto the gun. He got up, ran and held out his right arm, his hand tightened around his gun...thwap..thwap...thwap..came the sounds in an almost slow-motion tone as the bullets slammed into the Triads flesh. He cried out as the Firensi flew through the air and landed a few meters away from the fallen owners body. Then came an ear splitting BANG as the Triad truck exploded, sending the Blista flying Carl's way.

"Shit!" he shouted as he ran away from the tumbling ton of metal, picking up the Shotgun as he passed - only 6 shells, but it'd do. The Blista was a good few meters away from Carl when it finally stopped - it's rear right wheel had crushed the Triads left shin. But then, Carl heard the whisper of fire again - the Blista was alight! He'd have to run the last half a mile or so. He spinted away from the burning wreckage and realised the bridge wasn't down far enough - he'd fall! But, a bit of quick thinking and agility let Carl jump up and grab the ledge of the lowering portion before he fell a good 150 feet. He clambered up and ran across the raised portion, jumping down onto the stable part. He sprinted through towards Escobar Intl.

He heard screaching tires - it was the Cartel in their Cruisers! He loaded the Shotgun and shouldered it. He waited for the first car to get close enough before he let loose with a volley of pellets, reloaded and fired another load off. The car jack-knifed then burst into flames and Carl could here the four Cartel inside screaming themselves to sleep...

The next two cars were already parked and 8 of the Cartel were unleashing a hell of M16 rounds on him. He dived into a nearby bush for cover. 4 rounds...8 Cartel...hopefully they weren't too smart. He stuck the nuzzle of the gun out and as soon as he did, leaves and twigs were being snapped by a hail of bullets. Carl pondered then saw it - the blue and red lights of a cop car! Soon he heard the wurring of the sirens and he positioned himself so he was invisible to the unaware. Another cop car pulled up and two cops jumped out of each car. He silently loaded the Shotgun and lay flat on his gut...a cop came towards the bush, obviously looking for cover behind a nearby sign. Another followed. Carl smirked. Handguns would do.

He jumped out of the bush like a cat and smashed a slug into the two running cops, they fell and dropped their guns. He loaded the Shotgun again and picked up one Glock, while stripping the cops of their ammo before heading back into the bush. He slammed a new clip into the Glock and slid it into his pants, after putting the safety on, of course.

He spied the last two cops, making a break for the bush over the road. "Hah," he laughed as he dashed back out the bush and blew them away with two long ranged trigger pulls. He ran over to them and grabbed more ammo and one of their guns. He pressed the release to drop the newly acquired guns half empty clip and pushed a new one into it before holding his two new Glocks out infront of him like a shield. He ran forward, like he was afraid of nothing, unleashing 28 bullets of hell into the second Patriot, blowing their cover to bits - killing 3 of them.

Only 5 left. He slammed two new clips in as his Glocks smoked at the nuzzle. He quickly dived behind the wreckage of the blown Patriot and crouched, back to wreck, pointing both guns opposite each other. One poked his head around the left corner and pulled it back without one. He heard the M16 clatter and threw one of the Glocks away, into a bush on the opposite side of the road. He steadied his remaining Glock, stood up and stuck his finger on the trigger. Thoughts wizzed around his head - no fear. He feared nothing - not even death. What could he do?

Like a bullet from a gun he jumped around the close right corner of the Patriot and fired off 6 rounds into two of the bastards. Two bullets were wasted as both men got shot in the chest, then in the throat. Fountains of blood spurted up as they fell backwards, crashing to the ground in a pool of their own gore. Two left - they stood amazed behind the remaining Patriot. Carl ran as he ejected his half empty clip and slammed a full, fresh one in. He chased the Cartel around the Patriot before he remembered about those M16s...quickly, he ran over to one of the three abondoned Rifles. He turned and sprayed the whole clip into the Patriot as bullets whizzed past his head, smashing into the wreckage behind him.

Carl smirked. The car exploded and he saw the two bastards fly through the air and land on a far away Cheetah, as he stripped the three dead Cartel of Assault Rifle ammo and headed off to Escobar Intl Airport.

"Here he comes! Snipers, on my mark!" cried a very distinctive jamaican-imitation accent. They grunted as a sign on approval. Carl got closer...

Sweet turned off the safety on his SMG and activated the laser-pointer. "Good night, my friends," he whispered as he pulled the trigger and sprayed the green-clad bastards waiting for Carl. He threw his emptied SMG to the floor and pulled out two Uzis before opening fire again.

"Shit!" cried the leader. He ran to the air-vent they used to get up here and slid down it, hearing his brother's cries echo through the metallic surroundings... Bullets rang down after him but he had already hit the bottom and rolled down onto the top floor behind a screen they had prepared for their getaway. He then grabbed his rappel and attatched it to the guard-railing before winding himself down and running out to his awaiting jet...

Carl heard gunshots coming in from above and ran over to find some cover. He snook behind the cover and into the parking lot before seeing a familiar body running out of the entrance. He was heading toward the plane a few hundred meters away. Carl quickly smashed a nearby Cobras window and opened the door before finding a spare set of keys on the dashboard. "Idiots," he laughed as he started the car and sped towards the man. He wound down his window and pointed his Glock out - not close enough. He shifted into top gear and raised his gun again. His tounge popped out of his mouth as he closed his right eye. Click...bang...

He ran and ran but he knew the stalker on the roof would shoot him. When he got closer, he felt a bit more confident...until he heard the roar of a car. "Shit..." he whispered as he stretched his strides even further. Suddenly, about 10 feet away from the door of his jet, he spotted blood burst out infront of him and land on the steps leading up to the jet - it was his own blood. His body twisted and turned as three bullets riddled his shoulders and lower back. He passed out, clutching the exit wound on his front...

Carl skidded to a halt next to the twitching body - he was still alive. He got out of the car and rolled him over with his foot. The guys eyes opened...

A blurry vision of a tall black man entered his retina. He held his arm up...looking for pity...the man lifted his right arm and pointed the gun at his head. "Goodbye, bitch!" He closed his eyes as his fate finally sunk in.

Carl pulled the trigger and watched as the cylinder of metal slashed in though his skull and ripped through his brain, sending a short spurt of red blood up, then the blood started to surround the hole...Carl had just killed a rival gang-leader.