Sweet sighed, and leaned back on the couch of the Johnson house. Ryder sat next to him, Big Smoke sat in one of the chairs at the table in the corner of the room, and Brian was in the kitchen making some cerial. It was seven in the morning. Ryder took a drag of his stick, and exhaled the sick-smelling smoke from his nose. "So, what we gonna' do 'bout CJ?" Sweet looked to him. "What the fuck you mean, Ryder?" Ryder raised his hands in a shrug. "What, man? You just gonna' leave 'im there?" Sweet shrugged back in response. "What else can we do? He got seven -- " "Eight." Smoke corrected him. "Eight," continued Sweet,"counts of murder. That's an automatic life sentence!"
Ryder nodded. "Exactly, mayne! We gotta' get 'im out!" Smoke inhaled on his Cigar, and nodded. "Yeah, man." Sweet shook his head. "I don'know man. He probably wouldn't wan' us to risk anything for his ass. You know him." Ryder shrugged. "So? Sometimes, shit happen, that you don't want to happen. C'mon, I got a plan." Smoke nodded once more. "Gonna' blow the prison?" Ryder froze for a second. "Man, shut up! I'm gonna' blow up the prison." Smoke rolled his eyes. "Okay, so, what we need, is a getaway car, a private house, some explosives, and the blueprints to the prison." Sweet agreed with the plan, despite how vague it was at the moment. "Okay, yeah." Ryder stood. "I'mma go get the blueprints." Sweet stood then, and pushed Ryder back down by his shoulders.
"Nah man, nah. Le'me do that. Y'ain' exactly a 'people person'." Sweet walked around the couch, and out the door, closing it behind him and hearing Ryder swearing, followed by Smoke laughing.
---
Carl lay on his bunk, with a few bruises. He'd beaten the fuck out of his inmate for the top bunk. Suddenly, he heard the guard shout out a few orders, and he rolled over and jumped off the bed. He landed on the floor, and turned, walking to the cell door with the beaten inmate behind him. The cell door opened slowly, and a series of prisoners all walked in single-file to the cafateria.
Carl shuffled across the cafateria with a tray and a bowl of steaming shit in his hands. He sighed, and sat down at a mostly empty table, and began eating. "Damn Sweet .. You gotta' get me outta' here ... "
---
Lloyd sat in his living-room, staring at the random images flickering across the telivision. He was expecting a call from the Russians or Mexicans on when to make their first monthly deal. Just as he turned this over in his mind, the phone began to ring, and he reached over, and picked it up.
"Hello?" Lloyd said.
"In prison? What for?" Lloyd laughed slightly. "You payed off the doctor? Nice, man, nice! You gonna' get a reward for that!"
"Gonna' break him out? When?" "You don't know? Fuck. Call me when you get more details bitch."
Lloyd put the phone down on the base, and smiled to himself.
---
Sweet opened the door to his Greenwood, and stepped out, closing it. He walked over to the doors of the planning building, and opened them, walking in. The air was cool, and there were security guards everywhere. And, of course, a few tourists. He walked up to the front desk.
"May I help you, sir?" Said the woman at the desk in a false tone of friendliness.
"Yeah, I'm lookin' for the blueprints of the jail downtown."
"I see ... And you know it's illegal to copy these, correct?"
"Oh yeah, yeah, I'm just makin' reference."
The woman told Sweet where the blueprints were, and he walked back across the room, then turned and walked up the flight of stairs. As he neared the level the blueprints he needed were on, he realised he needed a camera. Luckily, there was a tourist standing in the corner, and now guards or other civilians visible in the area.
Sweet walked up to the man, and spoke. "Sir, you think you could come with me?" The man fidgeted nervously. "Uhhh, w-why?.. " "It's a matter of security, sir." Sweet walked to the door just next to him, and walked inside the room. The man followed behind nervously, and walked in, Sweet closing the door behind him. He reached into the back of his pants and pulled out his silenced pistol. "Gullable motherf -- " The rest of his words were cut off by the silent hiss-like sound of the bullet leaving the chamber, and hitting the man, who fell backwards, already dead.
Sweet walked up to the body, and bent over, removing the camera from him. He put it around his neck, and grabbed the man by the shoulders, pulling him across the room, and stuffing him under a chair. Unless someone looked specifically there for him, it'd be hard to see him. This done, Sweet left the room, closing the door behind him, and continued up the stairs as he shoved the pistol back in his pants. Then, he saw the door into the blueprints room, and opened it. He closed it behind him. It was incredibly silent in this room, and there was only one security guard, who wasn't facing Sweet. This was too easy.
Sweet pulled out his silenced nine millimeter, and blew the guard away. He then looked about the room, and found the object he was looking for. A pair of blueprints attached to the wall by something behind them, of the prison downtown where Carl was being held. Sweet backed up a bit, and snapped a photo of the blueprints. They were too big to smuggle out, so a good photo would have to do. He then zoomed in on a few weaker areas of the prison, and the cell where he'd known Carl was in. This would be just too easy. Now, all they needed was a getaway car, and the explosives. Neither should be that hard to acquire in Los Santos, San Andreas.