Concrete Jungle

by Onkwehonwe Kashatstenhshera

A cartel hitman, an ex soldier, a wayward gunmen with no cause, an ex KGB agent, & a familiar family oriented coke addicted thug find their way to sunny LS finding themselves around similar scum. Immoral car salesmen, low life bangers, king pins, & hackers. When an eventual rift in the friendship divides their destinies, alliances shift & none of them will ever be the same again.

69. The Hell With The Consequences

March 1, 2015

Lil King sat at an Up N Atom and he was eating with Flash and Lil Banks. They had threatened to kill him before or at least Flash had but they were still homies. Shit like that was common anyway. Before long, Flash had to use the bathroom and Lil Banks was at the counter waiting for them to fix his fish sandwich order as he had not wanted any kind of white sauce and yet they had put it on there.

Just then, a bald Mexican American in a white t shirt showed up. He had a mean look to him and Lil King guessed he was gang related. He sat down uninvited at the table. "What do you think you're doing?"

"This won't take long. I just want to know, eh. You remember who I am?"

"Nah. Should I?"

"Yeah. You single handedly ruined my life. Or at least you fucked it up pretty bad."

"Oh what I do? Fuck your bitch Pimp your bitch? What?" Lil Banks saw what was going on and his order was just about ready. He kept an eye on the table but he also checked the sandwich this time.

"No. You killed my bitch, puto. You don't remember? 2013. You and some other piece of shit. You were there for me. En Rancho. But you ended up hitting my woman."

Lil King lifted up his shirt tail under the table. "So what you tryna do about it cuz? I got my boys here and you outta you element."

"Nah, punk you're the one outta bouns, fool. Cause you fucked up. I know who you are. And I know you aint about to use that shit on me in broad day light."

"You think I won't turn up at a fast food place I've done it before in this bitch…." He didn't mean this place but he had before on that Belizean guy. "Yeah but then you got the two juras in the parking lot pulling up. See I don't gotta walk around with homies. All of South Lis is my hood not just Rancho. I been at this shit longer than you been alive."

"Yo, there a problem?" Demanded Lil Banks walking up. "He was just leaving…." Lil King said a mouthful of burgers. "I know about you…." Replied the Ese. "I know about your jefita, your little sister, I know about that faggot brother of yours in a pen outta state. You think he can't be touched?"

Flash also saw the altercation. "What's crackalacking, bean boy? You want something?" He grabbed a chair. Lil King told him, "Nah chill out, homie. There's one time right there."

The gang member put the chair down. The cholo chuckled. "I'll be seeing you again, Lil King. When you least expect it. But I'm a gentlemen. I'll give you three days to get out of town. After that, anything goes when I see you again."

He walked out. "What the fuck that spic want with you?" Demanded Flash. "He thinks I killed his bitch."

They stifled the conversation, the two cops came in, ordered their food and left. "I say we finish up here and catch that scrap around the corner…." Stated Lil Banks. "On Families, nigga."

"Nah, don't trip, I got this. We just gotta get back to the hood and make sure we sew that shit up tight you feel me?"

Ivan

Stalingrad

It had been a few days since the situation with the AV and Sugar.

He sat in a smoke filled room. Both Ballas and Families members were sharing blunts. "So let me see if I got this right, dog. You trying to roll with us to smash on the AV? Did you discover some African ancestor I don't know about?" This got a laugh from both Ballas and Families gangsters. "Other than Lucy from Ethiopia, I don't think so but shouldn't that be enough? That and the fact that they threatened my girlfriend."

"Is that what you're calling it now?"

"Don't start with that. You don't have to like it but just admit you didn't have a problem with Imani before that she was part of your hood still is. And as for me, you know I'm a capable gunmen. As a matter of fact, I'm the most capable one here."

"I think you better slow your roll, cracker jack..." Stated Big Sway. "You getting a little too big for your britches now...just remember where you are..."

"I know where I am. Davis. A city guys like you barely run anymore. It's more of a city for Ese's now, man. And even before you lost the majority they still had barrios listed in the city by the LSPD in the 80's and 90's so they were always there."

"What the hell you know about my city? You aint been here in the 90's. Shit you couldn't unless you were buying rocks and trust me most people would be scared to come through this motherfucker. Understand something cuz. This my hood. I'm the Captain out here. This aint Hove Beach so you aint running shit."

"I don't got so much of a problem with who he is…." Stated H Bomb. "So much as what he believes. Or doesn't believe. You're an atheist right?"

"Yes. But I don't see what that has to do with anything."

"Naw, he's with them Epsilon niggas. That aint exactly atheist. Then again Chris Formage aint no god neither…." Stated K Low.

"That's not exactly true. I infiltrated them."

"Infiltrate?" Asked Weasel. "What for? And how we supposed to know you won't do us dirty like that?"

"If you know anything about the Epsilon Program you would know what con artists they are. I'm doing a public service by infiltrating them and going after their money. They shake down their own congregations."

"You talking about charity? Aint nathin wrong with that," Stated H Bomb. "The churches around here do that long as they aint no hustler preachers trying to get a fat ride and crib, I'm down with that. It's the same thing with us, bro. We pay 2.5% of our income to charity."

G Note approved of that. "That's cool I aint know that."

"The charity is only to further Islam…." Ivan stated. "It's not intended for kaffirs…."

"Man, how do you know that?" Demanded H Bomb. "I had to study your faith. When I was fighting the Chechnyans."

"So you killed Muslim men women and children?"

"No, I killed men women and children. Their religion was not relevant to me personally. It was only relevant in the larger scheme of things. The reasons why they resisted us. If you had seen some of what these militias in the Caucus mountains had done in the name of their God, you might lose faith too. Anyway I don't see what bearing my faith or lack of faith has on stopping these Neo Nazis. They caused a child to die. I find this reprehensible. They attacked the mother of my unborn child."

"I mean…we definitely want to let Sugar sit this shit out. But I just aint sure I should have you on this, man. Leondre wanted to settle up with the Aztecas before and you let him outta respect, right? I don't think it's really on you to come with us. Suga's one of us. She's a Baller. So the hood's gotta make them pay for that."

"Yes, but I killed the men that tried, remember?"

"Yeah but there's still the fools they take orders from. White boys aint independent like niggas. They always answer to somebody. Aint no thoughts on their own..

"I'm for Boogeyman rolling with us…." Stated K Low. "He's had our back so many times and honestly man, we could probably be doing more on our end to help them deal with this little civil war they got going on with Grisha Markovich, blood…"

"I still don't know him like that so I don't trust him. I say fuck that. Janea might think he's aight but not me. He should sit this one out. I don't like the idea of some Bravta motherfucka getting with a Covenant sista either, patna," Stated G Bone. "What they don't got no mail order brides for you to ship in?"

"Fuck you, asshole. I got her pregnant, I will take responsibility. Maybe if you had a father around to spank you, you would not be such a dick."

G Bone raised his chrome 9mm cocking the slide back and aimed it at Ivan's face. "Put that away…." Baba Yaga warned. "Before I get pissed."

"What you gonna do, hit me with a bottle of Vodka? Fuck you. And fuck any South Central nigga down with you."

"Hey, put the shit down…" Tyson said stading up and even Sway opposed it. "Aint nobody popping off shells in my crib. You better holster that fuckin shit. On the hood! This aint Hove Beach but it aint Strawberry neither."

"And it aint Covenenant ave, either…." H Bomb reminded the other Ballas. "What the fuck, Bomb? You brought us all out here to talk about the motherfuckin war, right nigga? So how you gonna pull that"

Tyson warned G Bone, "I aint gonna ask again….." Janea put a hand on the pistol and said, "Baby put it down. Ivan's cool. I know he aint rocking the violet but I bet you if he ever ended up in the big house, niggas that know what he did for Leela would be rocking with him. He did a lot more for us in fights than even some niggas from any of our hoods do. You're not even factoring in the niggas from around the way that be from the set but just about they paper and don't even bang on other hoods like that."

G Bone glared at Tyson, and launched an accusing tone at the darker skinned Baller. "How you gonna boo with this Ruskie when he was with Leela the night she got hit? You avenged her death just as much as he did remember? You're the one that grew up around here."

"Do any of you think you could have survived on the streets of Moscow if you had to? Or Hove Beach? I think you'd find the same kind of hostility you give me. But I would have shown you courtesy."

"Yeah but we still speak English aint the same as Russia. Do they even got any niggas out there?" Demanded G Bone. "I doubt it. We hate the cold."

"When I was there, and I don't remember what year it was when I looked it up but there were about 200,000 people of African descent. They came from the continent as exchange students, most of them."

"Look, for the record, I think we should let him come too. Don't get it twisted though. In my book you're a purple cheerleader and I know some homies have died by your hands. But you're cool with Lamar and you did jobs with him regardless so I aint tripping. Just as long as you don't come after any of us again."

Lamar who had been strangely silent, possibly due to the potency of the weed stated, "Word….yeah but I don't care if you put the smash on them Carson bitches all day every day. You'd really be doing CGF and Forum Gangstas a favor. Aint nobody here about to lose no sleep over it."

"You know…yo didn't answer my question though…." H Bomb said. "Why you don't believe in God? I mean Communism fell in Russia so the Russian orthodox church should at least be back full swing. I mean look we all fucked up here and did some shit that society and God frowns on but even most of us believe in something. Doesn't the fact that you were in the war tell you those people fighting and dying to drive yall out meant something?"

"If you're implying they had God on their side, you should know they lost that war. Then again, in other situations, things went your way. Muslims complain about the crusades as an atrocity but you won that war. That's more of a victory than your enslaved ancestors ever got unless they were alive in time for the civil war. All that proves is that anybody can say God was on one side or the other."

"Yeah but what about morality? Don't you ever think about it when you're by yourself? Wonder about the things you've done?"

"Why does this matter on whether or not I can go with you all? I can understand your distrust as we've never fought alongside before but I should have more than enough support from OCB giving what I've done for them…"

"Because this is our hood and our house. We've been involved in peace treaties since the 90's. I try to do it from the place of positivity and spirituality, Sway does it by using his own status as an OG still deep in the game to show he's got credibility and even people from rival hoods respect him so even if their little homie was to trip he could call up their shot caller and chop it up. Think of it like generals ending wars, right? But trip, the reason I ask is cause if I'm rolling with you into battle, a battle I believe to be God's will, it matters to me to know what kind of man is at my side."

"So you're implying a man can only have morals if he believes what you believe? Or at least is religious? You know I heard this argument back home. The Orthodox church talked about the ten commandments as if they were some profound thing."

"Yeah they are. We respect the Torah and the bible having them we feel the same way."

"Yes, but the only ones of those that even have slightly to do with real morality, is to not lie, murder steal or commit adultery. Do you honestly think that humankind had no sense of right and wrong in pre biblical societies? That the Hebrews were to first to figure out something so obvious? If this were true there would have been no way for societies older than theirs to function."

"What does any of this have to do with getting revenge for Peaches?" Demanded G Note. "Come on, man that's my homegirl can't we just go already? Bomb, please?!"

"That's what I'm saying…" Lil King added. "If I wanted to debate the bible, I'd go to church on Sundays still. Or just live the other six days of the week that aint Sunday back in Narcadia…"

"Whether you like it or not, as an atheist your views of law and order and how you did it in your own country, came from the children of Abraham and all the prophets after that. You can say that we get our values and laws from society but if that's the case, then the Nazi Germans that your people fought, by the 1930's standards of that society, the holocaust was okay."

"You're implying that if we didn't have these laws from these ancient books we would be worse off if somebody didn't just write it down. What that tells me is that you want to go out there breaking every law the Quran forbids. When theists tell me about the laws their book says to follow it sounds to me more like chains just barely keeping them in check. But let me ask you this. If those ten commandments are really so fool proof, the light of humanity, why is there murder, theft, lies, adultery in every country? Yes, even Islamic ones. Even if there is punishment for it, it still happens. Making a law doesn't mean everybody will follow it. Look at your country, man! Highest incarceration rate!"

"But that's what I WAS doing on the streets, man. Breaking laws. Shooting people, dealing rocks, doing licks, fornicating, all that."

"It looks to me like you're still doing it. You may not believe in dealing drugs, you might not want to fight your own people anymore, but you're still killing it. The justification for killing a Vanguard soldier might be different from killing a man from Covenant Avenue but you're still rationalizing it. But me, with my code of ethics, I know sometimes blood must be spilled for the greater good. I just don't hide behind a deity to assuage my guilt."

"We're not just fighting a gang though. Ballas are a gang. The AV are a hate group. They gotta die. Look we do what we do. And we can't change it not overnight. But what's the percentage rate of Families committing murders in prison nation wide? And you got to cross reference that with how much our population is in prison. Whites like to point out how brothas are in a population that's 13% of the population yet over half the murders…."

"Yeah but that's mostly men, nigga….cause it's the 6% of that 13 that's mostly doing that shit…." Corrected Janea. He ignored her.

"Anyway, if they can look down on us for committing crimes disproportionate to our population, then I can say the same about the Vanguard being 1% of the prison population, yet they're nationwide and they do 26% of murders. And peep this. It was that way when I was inside. I got out in 2006. So it has to be much higher by now. I could focus on Onda if I wanted and we have warred with them but very few if any varrios want it with my hood on the streets and it's the same for Ballas. They know how deep we are. But the Vanguard is everywhere. They'll be in states where Ese's aren't but they'll still single out a brother on the yard and poke him."

Ivan folded his arms. "Your ten suggestions talks about not killing, not lying and cheating. But isn't it funny how rape isn't in the top ten? Doesn't it bother you? You're proud of you African heritage. I am proud to be what I am too. But it runs contrary to the respect you have for the women in your 'hood' your religion and the other two major religions view women as property."

"That's a subject for another time…." H Bomb said. "And we can debate that. Matter of fact I want to talk to you later after this is over. In private. But for now, we gotta handle business. You coming or not?"

"So ya'll finally agreed the homie's cool?" Said Tyson with an eye roll. "About time…."

"I wasn't tripping as hard about Boogeyman's heritage. It' what he believes. I know there's men that look like him that shalat five times a day. We're all God's children at least at first. Ivan's maybe in that in between stage. Others are the children of the Devil. That's what the Vaguard is. I was for letting him come I just wanted to see if he was as sharp in the mind as he is with a gun," He explained.

He looked at Ivan. "You once considered us enemies. But you know a lot about who you were fighting. I don't agree with all you said but you showed you can really find out a lot."

"I was KGB for a couple of years. FSB for far longer than that. To me it's the same organization no matter what. If I couldn't do what my parents did, I would have never gotten a job like I had."

Just then a dark skinned black man came out from the bedroom. "Oh I forgot to mention him….that's the homie Royal T."

Royal T was a somewhat overweight black male wearing a midnight blue t shirt. He also wore a plain black baseball cap and blue khakis. He carried two 9mm's. "If things hadn't worked out with you….he was gonna come out spraying…I'm just saying…." H Bomb said grimly. "He's a big homie even to me and Sway and he insisted on it."

"Great. So the whole time there could have been an ambush. And it would have probably alarmed my friends too…." Ivan said with a snarl referring to the Ballas.

"We'd have tried to get them to calm down. But if not, it is what it is. My baby bro's doing you a favor being upfront with you though. You might see it as scandalous but we don't know you like that, cause you good with Ballas don't mean you good with us. That still remains to be seen."

There was also a few more from 165th street Families that were going with. There was a black woman with light brown skin wearing a green and blue plaid button up over a gray tank top and she wore beige khakis.

Next was a darker skinned black woman standing at about five four wearing a mesh white shirt over a green top and black shorts. She had long black hair. She introduced herself to Ivan and the Ballas as Envy. It was likely due to the fact that she too, was always sporting the gangs colors.

Next was a lighter skinned black woman who was curvier than the rest with blondish brown neck length hair. She wore a pink belly shirt showing off her gawdy silver piercing and she wore black jeans that showed off her large derriere. Though she drew attention to herself in terms of males, she was not wearing gang colors.

There was also a black male with light brown skin and almost Asian looking eyes. His black hair was springy and curly and he wore a white Feuds t shirt but the letters were in black to be incognito. There was something about the way he looked that made him seem like he was trying to be hard but deep down didn't want to be doing this.

He was from the hood to be sure but Boogeyman got the vibe that he was doing this out of pressure and while he was now in his mid twenties, he felt as if the man had been putting on this front since teen years. His name was Shawn "Yellaboy" Derringer. He had a tear drop tattoo under his left cheek. He wore a white and ray plaid t shirt and a Liberty City Swingers cap on to the side.

The next 165th street Families banger was a dark skinned shermhead, Donald "Wet" Matheson. His nickname was obvious. He was six foot five and had done a nickle in Boilingbroke.

They piled in to a stolen Burrito. This one was midnight blue. Ivan,Janea, G Bone, Sway and Bomb were riding together as was G Note and Lil King. "Oh just so ya'll know, we got some help from Cypress Flats too. My homies from SOP coming through. And some others from down there you know how I get down."

"What, those Uso fools that think they're niggas?" Asked Sway with a scoff. "Hey, bro, me and you did time at different places and different times so we both did years for the hood…." Stated Bomb. "But I'll tell you what they might be different but a Samoan, a Fijin, Tongan, Hawaiian, I don't care what, I been in some dust ups with the enemies inside, homie. They're not a bad people to have on your side. Don't matter if they're blocking for you on the football field, or on the main lines. And trust me, in both instances, both can be the difference between a good day and a bad day."

"They some bandwagon Families in my book, fool. I aint hating them niggas I'm just saying nobody who wasn't down in big Cookie's day should be allowed to be Families."

"Yeah, well it's like I told Paul's trifling ass when he flipped to Vagos and went after brothers repping cuz…." Said G Note. "There's Families gangsters on the rez. I'm surprised that he aint join them where he's from. I mean it's real that he did try and kick it in the original hood but still. He could have just as easily cliqued up back there."

"I don't think there are Los Santos gangs in Haudenosaunee country, Danielle…." Stated Ivan. "They're more of a smuggler tribe than a gangster tribe. You want Families, try an Ojibway or Lakota reservation."

"Yeah, and then you got Vietnamese dudes claiming…I aint saying it's right…" Said Sway. "But Cookie aint even like Asians he smoked them calling them Buddha heads. We aint gotta agree with it but I think the Ese's got somewhat of a point. Them niggas from the Flats are hypocrites letting Viet Cong in when the big homie was hating them on some post Vietnam war shit. They should stand on their own as their own gangs."

"Yeah but Cook, much as I had love for him, he's dead…his actions got him the needle…." Replied H Bomb. "I wanted to have them commute his sentence to life too but four bodies? No way they were going to. They say hindsight is 20/20, right? Well for me, that statement never rang truer than the moment I realized the brother was done. I was still locked up when they killed him but I tried to get petitions signed, see what I could do and nothing happened. I mean damn…they were willing to give him praise when he got the Ballas and Families to truce it up in nine deuce so why they have to kill him fourteen years later?"

"It aint like back in the day though. Games changed…." Stated G Note. "As much as we hate to admit it, locs would be weaker if we didn't have Asian allies. Pac Islanders too. Shit those giant mofos are the definition of westside ridas cause the pacific is their home. They're so motherfucking west side, them niggas make us look east side!" The female gangster said with a chuckle.

"I say fuck all that. I aint prejudiced like I said but if we're gonna call outta staters fake when they faking on real loc shit, then we need to smash out any and all dick riders. That means if a Davis nigga should ever run across some Cambodians, Samoan niggas or them reservation copy cats, we gotta put the smash on em. Same with Mexicans. I don't hate them but this aint the 80's having em in our set aint practical if they hit the pen."

"What about the fact that these gangs in Cypress Flat does a significant number on your Vago enemies? I have met some Asian Ballas as well…" Ivan stated.

"It don't matter homie and the purple B dogs if they real are the same way. It aint like a Vietnamese cat can join BGA either so what's the point? And as far as Asian niggas locin, homie inside, they aint claiming cuz. They only doing that on the street. They're afraid even what other Asian gangs that aint claiming LS niggas shit gonna do. Them independent Hmong gangs , them tongs that got no love for locs or B Dogs plus the heat they get from Ese's. They strictly on that 'others' shit and let real niggas down for the F or the B protect them."

"Hey, well then what you say to niggas from outta state that claim cuz?" Asked Lil King.

"It depends. Them Belizean niggas that took flight to Liberty City they a bit different the way they be about shit but it was LS niggas that still brought it out there unlike the United Baller Nation. But Families in the midwest like St. Louis, Indiana, shit even Detroit or Cleveland they fake. Real locs aint with that 6 bullshit. And real locs don't let white boys on the set either. We can be friends but come on niggas can't we have something for ourselves? We can't keep twerking, reggae, gold teeth, dreads, either! But as far as the fake Family sets, yeah they can get smashed on too. This 165th street lil nigga. They piss off the best they can sleep with the rest."

"Well, if you plan on trying to smash on any niggas you feel is dick riding the set, can you lay off it for today? Cause me and Lamar called on those allies and today the enemy is AV. Maybe if you see them in action you'll change your mind…" G Note said.

"Fuck that…" Stated Sway. "I love Hawaiian girls. I love Mexican food I laugh my ass off at white comedians when they're cats like Loius CK or Daniel Tosh or Jeff Ross. I always root for Indians in western flicks, and I like Kung Fu movies and in Platoon, I was wanting Viet Cong to win. I'm not ignorant about history homie and baby bro here…" He said slapping Bomb on the back, "Teaches me as much as I ever taught him. But I aint never gonna see none of them as real F riders, man. That'd be like me forming a Yakuza clan in Davis and then expect to be taken as seriously as them guys that been at this shit for centuries. Can any of you niggas speak Japanese? I can't. Can any of you use a sword instead of a gun?" He then took the chance to tease his brother, "I know you got training cutting off infidel heads, Mustafa but that's different from using a Katana. Especially with a missing pinky."

"Fuck you," Stated Hassan. "What I should do is cut the rolls off your ass you fat ass nigga. I can still run through a enemy hood handle business and get to dipping on outta there. Not you. You'll be coughing up a lung."

Ivan found the back and forth between the two brothers funny. As did the rest. They suddenly pulled up to a spot in Vespucci Beach. "What the hell are we doing here? We are meant to be going east of here. Near Chumsh, no?"

"First, I gotta stop by and see a homie I met in the pen. These Most Hated bustas we're going after are dangerous cats. There's honestly even a few Ese's that hate these casper bitches enough to put aside their differences with us."

"Whoa, homie look I aint against…all that…." Stated Janea. "But you got to take it slow, Malcolm X! I wasn't mentally prepared to be having Vagos in our shit too. It is Vagos right? What hood we talking? I can live with it if it's a hood like Cerco Blanco or some other hood like that. Even a Maravilloso. But them fools from like 155 or the East Siders down in the Flats, they on that NK shit. But dam warn a bitch next time!"

"It better be them….." Stated Ivan. "If it's an Azteca, there's no promise there won't be an altercation between them and the Ballas."

"I don't want to deal with Marabunta…" Admitted G Note. Being a rape victim herself, she saw them as the same as Rhino was. "If we deal with a Ese set I'd rather it be Azteca. I mean no offense to the purple homies I'm just saying and besides they only got beef with like one Azteca hood."

"The homie's from Taco Flats. I met him when I was up in prison the last year I was up in there. Insightful cat too. He was on that NK shit but I got him to see things differently. And then I come to find out when it came to black gangs he never hated the Families like he does Ballas."

"I aint with that shit. Fuck that…." Stated G Bone. "Aint no scraps gonna be cool with me."

"It's not your choice, homie. Besides, I don't like it either but uh…well Hassan you wanna tell em or do I gotta?"

"He's pretending to do business with them. Him and two of his homies. He and his homies are selling some white at their spot up in Chumash. The woods are buying it. Who do you think tipped us off about where they'd be? Got their own houses. You know what the irony is? They got like three houses in a row in that place as little safe houses for their dirt. I think the gang's lawyer he has enough vacation houses to spare some hot shot attorney. He lets them use that shit cause business is that good. Either that or they threatened him to make him."

"I really shouldn't have gotten high back there…." Lamented G Note. "We're finna ride on some punks and I got THC in my system…."

"Yeah for real, I'm feeling it too."

"Yeah that's the way I feel being around my own brother I gotta breathe through my mouth to not get a contact high. Anyway, that shit should hopefully wear off within an hour. We got at least a 50 minute drive."

Ivan had his AK-74 ready. G Note had two Mac-10's. Lil King was carrying a Mossberg 500 that he looked like he would drop from his lap. "Lil homie you should just sleep till we get there…." G Note said. "No problem…." The young New Arcadian stated and she held his shotgun for him.

Janea nursed an M4 with a drum magazine. G Bone had two Uzis. He favored these for drive-by's. Big Sway had his usual Remington and a backup 9mm to go with it while Bomb had an AK but he had a .44 Desert Eagle as well.

Compton Swinging by BG Knocc Out and Dresta played as they long, they arrived. They saw several carloads of Samoans, dressed in either variation of green or non gang colors, there was several more Baller cars plus the additional back up from 165th street Families and Davis Neighbohood, CGF and Forum Drive, including Lamar who arrived with Flash and Lil Banks.

They spotted a red Glendale and H Bomb looked at it parked among other cars. "Yup. That's the homie,Casper's ride."

"Man, look I don't give a fuck about no Tuna Fish ass mark. They don't get their asses outta my way, I'm squeezing on them same as these fools."

H Bomb knocked on the door to the first house which also had several other vehicles parked by it and two in the driveway. The door was opened by a member of Most Hated who had red hair shaved to a buzz cut and blue eyes that were so dark they actually looked brown.

Ivan positioned himself in cover behind a parked gray Bobcat, and Janea and G Bone got behind a white Oracle. G Note had a violet bandanna covering his face while his beanie was pushed down until it only covered his angry brown eyes. "Punk mothafuckas…."

Stone had a G36 this time and K Low had an AK-101. Tyson wore a black ski mask and he carried a P90. Flash carried a Remington 870 a green bandanna around his face while Lil Banks carried an MP5.

"Man, I aint got no love for these woods either, cuz but I don't know about all this riding with Ballas shit…." Stated Lil Banks. "And I aint racist neither but if we got a white Russian nigga with us don't that defeat the whole purpose?"

"Nigga, hell yeah!" Stated Flash angrily. "You ask me, H Bomb's a bitch ass nigga. Bad enough he be praying to some Arab god five times a day. He sucks off Mexis in the a hood like Taco Flats? See that's that shit man. He might be a westsid South Central nigga but he feel more like an east sider. Them bitches be at the mercy of Ese's out in Davis. Same with Rancho. These niggas used to look at Strawberry and Chamberlain like we was softer. But now we the last niggas standing."

He then looked at the Samoans nearby. "And these fake ass wannabes. And these gook motherfuckers…" He said loud enough for the Da Nang Boys to hear.

"Hey fuck you, west side pussies…." Snapped a Son Of Polynesia. "Usos are deep in South Central but I don't see you west side sissies in the Flats. It's all about the East Side…." Stated the man who was six foot three and muscular with dark brown skin, almost Asian looking eyes and curly hair. He threw up an E for eastside and in his other hand he held a Mac-10.

"You niggas aint on the east side of South Central, homie that's only Samoan slobs, nigga! Fuck you bitches!" Screamed Flash. He looked at the Da Nang Boys. "I don't know why the homies tolerate you refugee bitches either cause back in the 90's we was treating you with the quickness. Bunch of model minority motherfuckers living in the burbs with white boys."

"Man, shut the fuck up!" Stated Romeo "I show brothers nothing but love but I'm tired of getting shit on. Man, we kicked the US out of our country. We won! Now I'm starting to see why the OG's were beefing with everybody that wasn't us back in the day. I almost understand scraps! When the fuck did you ever win a war against white boys? You don't see us rolling with them in the pen! How the fuchk are we model minorities? Man fuck you niggas!" Stated Romeo.

Just then, Ivan noticed to his surprise, that Mai's father was there! He told Romeo, "I told you, young man, they only consider you to be a gook. They will never see you as an equal. If you think Cypress Flats was hard you should try living in the Bay Area as an Asian."

Ivan sighed. "Hey,Sway I'm all for having as many soldiers in this as we can even if you don't but your brother is going up to the door. You're the real shot caller of the set that had this idea! You should make sure they don't start killing each other before we kill these Vanguard assholes!"

"Ya'll knock it off!" Sway stated. "We're here to do a job. You can smoke each other on your own time."

G Note also told Flash and Banks, "Would it kill you two to be cool for once? You always want to instigate shit."

"Whatever. But best believe we settle up with these SOP bitches and DNB's when this shit's done."

"You aint saying shit but a word…." Stated Mahana. "I could do this all day. Ask your boy Lamar. He at least shows us respect."

"I'm counting on seeing you faggots on the rebound…." Spat T Mart as he had his M16A2 ready for action. "If you don't got enough heart to drop by the Flats, we can bring it to you. But Flats homies are more hardcore than lS so you better be careful."

"Now I know these niggas delusional thinking they city more hood than us…." Said Flash with a snort.

H Bomb waited only a moment before pressing the .44 Desert Eagle into the man's chest. He pulled the trigger and the powerful round went through him out of his back hitting the door frame. The Most Hated gang member fell blood pouring from his mouth as well as his entrance and exit wound. Only moments later, several rounds rang out at A Bomb but he predicted this and was already hopping over the side railing as the 10mm rounds flew past him.

"Just be glad I hit your bitch ass homie with a foh foh instead of keeping it kosher, bitch!" He yelled referring to the fact that he had used a Desert Eagle with rounds that were not .50 so as to mock them.

Moments before, inside, Casper was sitting with two of his homies. The key was opened for a sample. The Most Hated gang member, a white male with violet eyes, shaved blonde hair and and a thick stubble, snorted a line. "So what you think, dog?" Asked Casper, a light brown skinned Chicano with a yellowish tint to his skin and a handle bar mustache and he wore a red sweater and blue jeans. "I think...we're in business. Any chance...you can get me ten next week? Six won't even put a dent in things..."

On the TV, a sneak peak at the ending show's episode next week was being shown. "Next week on Hogs, Dogs and Pawgs...Ashley may have bitten off more than she can chew!"

A woman with her large butt in daisy duke shorts and her pink plaid shirt tied in a knot, and her brown hair in pigtails, tried herding pigs into a pen with a sheep dog with a red headed woman dressed similiar but with white jeans shorts and a blue tied off shirt and she wore a cowboy hat.

"You fucking skank! You distracted Buster with your slutty coochie! I know he smells all five farm hands you fucked!"

The two bega to fight and wrestle in the mud and the redhead, whose name was Sheila, smacked Ashley, "Bitch!" Before the two began kissing and rolling in the mud as the pigs trotted around them oblivious to the two.

"Can you move that much?" Asked Casper. The MH 1 member started to answer. "It's not a pro..." Suddenly, gunshots rang out as a Most Hated gang member was shot through the door. Casper took the knife from the table as the man dropped it reaching for his Glock 18. "The fuck is this..." He started to say. "Sorry, man but that's my cue..." Casper stabbed him in the back of the head before pulling out his 9mm and his homeboy put the pieces of a Mac-10 together and started spraying from within and he hit two MH11 members on the couch. Casper spotted another coming down the stairs and he fired six rounds hitting the man with four of them in the chest.

The Most Hated gangsters started to pile out of the house several at once only to be mowed down as Lamar, G Note, Janea, G Bone, Sway and several additional members of OCB, SSB, CGF, Forum Drive, DNFG and 165th street opened up on them. Seven of the gang members that were enforcers of the Aryan Vanguard fell dead down the steps.

A CGF gang member with dreads wearing a white and green varsity jacket and black stonewashed jeans and dark skin laughed as he held two smoking Uzis that had been used to hit at least two of the seven even though other gang members had also shot them. "Mane, if these motherfuckers that simple, this shit should be a piece of cake…."

No sooner did he finish that sentence when eight rounds from a Sig Sauer Rifle rang out striking him in the left eye killing him instantly and the remaining rounds splattered into the meaty remains of what had been his face.

The Most Hated gangsters took out the screens from their windows and began firing out at them. A South Side Baller was the next to take a hit, this one from an Aryan with a 20 gauge. The blast hit him in the upper chest and he fell over bleeding in the sand. Janea avenged her homeboy firing the M4 with extreme ferociousness.

She hit the MH1 thug in the chest and stomach and one in the right arm with fifteen rounds. "Fuck ya'll! Creole pride in this motherfucker you can kiss my mixed black ass!"

A booming voice from inside yelled, "Sure thing, 'sista'! Let me pucker up!" He fired a UMP at her but she ducked back to cover as the rounds came crashing at her. H Bomb managed to hit one of the gang members in the gut before getting to cover and grabbing his Assault Rifle.

"All right we're gonna have to smoke these fools out! They're not coming out they're staying where they are!" The Muslim convert yelled.

Just then several MH1 members came out from the back having one out the back door and the windows there. Some had even jumped from the deck.

The MH1's took cover from the side of the house and Sway as he fired his shotgun at them yelled, "What the fuck, bro?! I thought we had niggas covering the back?!"

"We do!" Yelled Bomb. "As far as I know, at least!"

The MH1 members yelled back, "No, you HAD guys covering the back. But they're gone now."

Three 165th Families gangsters did indeed lay dead face down in the sand. Ivan fired off a burst of rounds fourteen in total missing most but the last four caught an MH goon in the face. "What's this shit? We got a traitor trying to storm us! You don't dress like a wigger!" Yelled the gang member.

"I'm no traitor. The third reich hated Slavs!" Baba Yaga shouted back. "I'm just doing my natural born duties as your fucking enemy! We beat you at war, motherfuckers!"

"Yeah and the Berlin wall still came down, asshole! Go slurp some more Vodka!"

Gina fired her MP5 striking another MH1 thug with seven rounds in the chest and four in the back as he fell. "My ancestors were with the Axis! You guys don't make sense! You consider the Japanese honorary aryans but you shit on slavs and the Polish?! Maybe more people would take you guys seriously if you could decide which rhetoric you want to stick with!"

"Fuck you, Tokyo Rose!" Screamed the gang members back at her as they fired blindly from cover at her. "We lost cause you fuckin nips didn't back us up and attack Russia like you were supposed to!"

"We fought them over Mongolia! What more do you want?! It's not our fault you lost before we did! Oh and I'm glad Japanese American soldiers killed you fuckers too!"

"You keep telling yourself that, Mulan! Take pride in killing us for the country that interned your ass!"

She hit the MH1 who said this in the chest, the stomach and both legs and even his testicles as he fell. "FUCK YOU!" She roared as this was clearly a sore spot for her.

Big Sway finally managed to get one in the left arm blowing it in half at the elbow. Just then, a Samoan gang member lurched forward as he was hit with twenty rounds in the back falling over and he had been flanked as other MH gang members had come from the next door house and they were taking cover behind the other vehicles that the gang members had not gotten behind yet.

Stone mowed down two MH members before getting to cover but a 5.56 round hit him in the right wrist and he cried out. "FUCK!" K Low did his best to keep him covered and he let off seven rounds at the AV who had shot him and he struck him down.

G Note sprayed the remainder of her rounds into four Most Hated skinheads. She had killed two and wounded two. She didn't have time to reload as one was going for his Skorpion so she went for her Beretta 84F and she fired two shots into the head of the man reaching or it. The other, knew he was done for and would not be able to get any weapon even though he wanted to go down fighting.

He spat blood saying, "There's gonna be serious blowback inside…that's what this is all about isn't it? Shit inside the big house…? Don't worry 'loc' you got our fuckin attention….and there's gonna be a whole lot of brothers…fathers…and sons…with dates…that they won't make it to see."

G Note kicked him in the side with her dark blue high tops and fired a shot into his waist. "You're threatening me with more prison violence? That aint new! You really wanna fuck with my head it'll be when you motherfuckers are trying to have a peace treaty with us. That would be some scary shit."

He flicked out a switchblade. He sliced into G Note's left leg. She cried out in pain though it wasn't too serious of a wound it still hurt like a bitch as the blade sliced off a chunk of her light brown flesh and the fabric of her pants and did so at such speed that under the removed skin was white and then blood poured from the wound. She fired a shot into the man's right hand taking his knife away. She also fired another shot into his right lung. He didn't care so much anymore. He was finished.

Meanwhile, Ulu and Mahana fired at the skinheads. A skinhead inside the beach house fired a 30.06 striking one of theh Samoans in the chest. "Fucking love you big sons of bitches!" He shrieked. "You're easy to hit!" He also fired dropping a female member of the DNB, his round striking her in the groin. Romeo fired an MP5 inside striking the man through the window and Khoi Thu hopped through the window grabbing a piece of glass and he jammed it into the mouth of the Most Hated gangster.

He laughed with delight as blood sprayed all over the broken shard of glass and the wall as the Vietnamese American redecorated his face from the inside slicing gums and the inner cheek only to follow up with a hard roundhouse to the face breaking the large chunk of glass ripping through the cheeks with shards from the inside and jutting inward towards the outside as the Caucasian gangster's right lip was somewhat fish hooked between his upper ad lower lip ripping into his cheek.

Ivan was upstairs, firing at three Most Hated gang members from across the way. A barrage of M-16 rounds hit him in his vest but two hit him one a ricochet and it hit a piece of his left elbow and he fell as a round hit him in the left arm. He fired the GP-25 grenade launcher back across the way and watched the three skinheads explode in a blast of red and bones as they were dismembered. "Shit!" He hissed making his way downstairs in agony.

Khoi spotted Ivan and to his surprise, the older Vietnamese man charged at him. He threw a hard left punch throwing the taller man into the wall. Ivan had to admit. He was dazed by the blow. The next hit him in the left ear causing his ear to ring. The ex Soviet grabbed the older man's arm after a third punch and he slammed him around into the wall following up with a knee in the back. "The fuck is wrong with you, old man?" Ivan growled. "Can't you see we have bigger fish to fry?"

"No time like the present..." The Hmong assassin responded with a head butt and he hit Ivan with a left eye gouge. Ivan saw his foot dart out in a kick so he held up his left shin to protect his right knee. The Hmong tackled him throwing him over the couch. "It was an accident!" Ivan gasped as the older man pounced on him. "There are skinheads trying to kill us!"

"They are trying to kill me...I succeed at killing them. And even though there was the mutually assured destruction thing during the war, believe me...I killed plenty of you commies...even if I wasn't supposed to."

Ivan drove a knee into the older man's gut. "Fuck you! Ho Chi Minh was a hero!" The Vietnamese ex IAA agent drove an elbow into Ivan's chest. "You know...during the first French Indochina war...I thought so too...then during the American invasion, I thought he was the enemy. In the end...i know I was on the wrong side of the war for my country...but the right side of the cold war...you see...I don't hate Ho Chi Minh anymore. Commie or not you're right...he was a national hero..." He then growled, "But the Soviet Union? You're as bad as Americans. I wish you two would have nuked each other into the stone ages and left the rest of us out of it."

He went for his knife and he began to bring it down towards Ivan's chest. "If that had happened...Mai would have never been born..."

"You don't talk to me about her! You are a false friend! You are priority number one! I may be done with Devlin...and Karen Daniels...but you? They're not wrong for anting you dead..."

A skinhead came down the stairs firing an MP7 and the older man took the knife throwing it at the man's throat. Ivan took his chance kicking him back away from him. The older man had a backup knife a butterfly and he slashed at Ivan missing his face narrowly but he did not miss slashing his chest across the right then stabbed him in the right pec and head butted Ivan causing a bloody nose. He flung the bigger man into the glass filled floor and slammed his face into it cutting his cheeks and forehead before turning him around.

He then stabbed him in the back before pulling the blade out and he turned him over and Ivan coughed up blood. "DAD STOP!" Yelled a female voice. Ivan looked to see Mai. She had dropped seven members of Most Hated with her M4. "This isnt the time for this..."

"This doesn't concern you...daddy's working..." He shouted. She pulled out a grenade and pulled the pin. "Actually...it does. He was my friend. It may be complicated we may even be enemies now. But I want my own chance to settle up with him. Right now there's a lot at stake. Things you don't understand. So if you kill him...you kill me...and you..."

"You're willing to die...for this piece of trash?"

"There's a lot a stake like I said. Some of it has to do with national security. Azarov is a part of that...you're not with the Agency anymore, dad..."

He put the knife aside standing up. "Well...I can't say I approve...but you're willing to die for your conviction. You are my daughter after all..."

The backup skinheads were trying to charge in but they failed. Romeo, Cherry, Gina, T Mart and Baby Face kept them away from the two Thu's with a heavy storm of automatic fire.

Sway, meanwhile, managed to recover some of the cocaine keys that the skinheads had been getting ready for distribution. He needed to reload his shotgun and as he did, a Most Hated member trained an M4 on him. "Drop the fuckin brick..." He ordered. "That's the only white you motherfuckers really care about..." He said with a sneer. "And the first color ya'll care about is green...I guess that'd be me?"

"I know this isn't something you Tranny's understand..." The skinhead said. "But we paid for that. It's ours."

"You know what they say..." Sway replied. "Possession is nine tenths of the law, homie. You got some jacked up priorities. My homies putting a boot up ya asses it's a literal helter skelter right outside and all you care about is yayo?"

"I've got a bead on you. Put it the fuck down..."

"All right, Bill Clinton...whatever you say..."

"Bill Clinton? Fuck you talking about?" Demanded the MH 1 gangster. The key had been sampled and had been cut open for exactly that. "Just don't...enhale..." Big Sway said before throwing the brick right at his face. A face full of powder hit his face and the man staggered. He staggered more. He fell over and hit his head on the ground. "Yeah...nothing like a high that knocks your ass out!"

Lil King's nerves were on edge as he fired his shotgun from cover taking out the knee caps of a MH 1 member. He hit another in the face as the man ran from cover firing an MP5 at a Forum Gangster. He was always nervous about getting into shootouts outside of the hood. This wasn't like South Central. People called the cops here at a much higher rate. He wasn't against killing these hateful bitches on prinicpal but based on pragmatism. He just didn' think he was as likely to get away with it so his nerves were shot.

Jackie lit up a MH 1 member with a shot to the left eye, Envy hit one in the left knee cap blowing it out before finishing with a headshot. Passion fired into the back of the head of a wounded female MH 1 member with short curly blonde hair and blue eyes. Green Eyes finished off a dying gang member as well with a head shot. Royal T stomped on the head of a skinhead he had shot having blown the man's testicles off and Lace pressed the barrel of her gun into the mouth of a redheade curly haired MH 1 woman wearing a white wife beater and camoflauge pants before decorating her brains all over the wall.

Both from fear of arrest and the fear of bullets flying over his head. Even with Flash and Lil Banks backing him up he didn't feel safe. In fact the felt more safe next to Sway and Bomb despite being from another hood than with these dudes he had rolled with the last two years and lived next to and partied with.

Ivan was helped to his feet by Stone and K Low. The other 165th street gang members took the bricks.

Before long, they were back in the van and H Bomb was tending to Ivan's wounds. "Hey...your homegirl...the Vietnamese lady. She set up a few charges in the house. Thught you might want to do the honors..." He handed him the device. "You want to do the honors?"

"What the fuck...happened I feel like I blacked out..."

"You did for a minute or so but look you proved yourself. She and her Samoan and Da nang Boy partnas dropped a lot of them. You good in my book homie but I guess we'll have to save that conversation for another time..."

Ivan hit the button and the beach house they had stormed went up in a blast. Mai took care of the demolition on the other one. Ivan would find out later that day that the casualties were forty members of the Most Hated. In addition, ten members of the Families had died, combining those lost from the DNFG, 165th street, Forum Drive and CGF. Five Sons of Polynesia, four Da Nang gangsters, one of Casper's homies and six Ballas had been killed. Casper's other friend, the one who had a Mac-10 had been injured but lived.

"You know..." Ivan said as H Bomb tried to stab the bleeding while Sway got them out of there. "I might have died...for Sugar's honor. Today...for what happened the other day. But then...the next time these kinds of men tried to kill her I would have been unable to help her..."

"If you'd died, she would have loved you forever..." The light skinned black OG from Davis stated. "But since you're gonna live, now you gotta earn that right..."

2 Hours Later

Vasily and Kuma had dropped by the spot to pick up Ivan. The two were surprised that it was a green raggers home they were picking him up from and not a Baller but he was alive so they kept their peace. "Hey...I meant to have a conversation with your homeboy about the tenets of Islam...and Communism. I told him I'd read a few things on what ya'll believe if he'd give the Qu'ran a try..." He handed the Russian a book. "You make sure he gets this? And have him drop by the books he wants me to read whenever..."

"Here..." Vasily said handing H Bomb a book. "Marx. It's very difficult reading. In English or Russian. Even college majors have a hard time with this. For a man who wanted the common man to win...he didn't speak very commonly..."

"Yeah plus he had a maid...not exactly a working man's thing..." Stated H Bomb. This earned a nonchulant grunt from Vasily. "Hey, would you want a copy? I got these in a bunch of different languages..." He offered an English copy of the Quran and the hadiths to Kuma but the Ethiopian declined. "I am an orthodox Christian but rest assured I have read it."

"I'll try it...I only know bits and peaces from the war. If you have a spare..."

H Bomb gladly handed him a copy. "I am not converting..." The large Russian vowed. "I just feel it is important to know what I am talking about. Maybe I can better understand the mindset of the men we fought...I was not always an atheist myself. I was baptized in the Russian Orthodox church before I was KGB."

"All i ask is you read it with an open mind. I'll do the same."

H Bomb handed him a bottle of Vicodin. "If he's in pain give him some of these. Sparingly..."

G Note smiled at him as the Russians left. "I'm surprised you being friendly with atheists...not to mention a Russian that's into sistas..."

"Yeah I know normally I wouldn't. But this motherfucker got wounded today fighting for the honor of one. If anybody does deserve to...it's a dude like that. But still..don't read too much into it. You know who really needs God but probably will never find him?" He asked looking at her. "Lamar..." They said in unison. They smiled. "Yeah...the best you could hope for is for him to find Jesus but he aint ever gonna be praying 5 times a day...he do need to get off that coke though...it's fucked his head up. He aint the same as he was before he started getting all into that..."

"Nobody ever is, sister. Thats the sad thing."

Unbeknowst to H Bomb, Big Sway was sitting on the toilet with a quran in his left hand and a hot dog in his right. A drop of mustard landed on one of the pages and several had already been ripped out for toilet paper. "Motherfucker..." He rolled then he looked down at the Quran. "Shit...I might be outta swishas too..."

San Tarantino Correctional Facility

The gang known as the Tribal Brotherhood a Native American prison gang was in most prisons to represent Native people was there. After Paul's death in death row at the hands of a Filipino inmate, the kites went out to San Andrean prisons all over especially since Curtis and Benjamin had become members of the Tribal Brotherhood. The Tribal Brotherhood was a gang originally founded in prison in Arizona to protect Native American ceremonies in prison but had become almost like a Native American version of the mafia. While it was true in Arizona they tried to not start trouble now that they were considered a security threat group and were tryin to lay low, there were stabbings and beatings in South Yankton prisons.

They were also notorious for the same thing in Oklahoma prisons. San Andreas was no different. They had gotten the kites from the two friends of Paul once he had died. It was taking time to plan this in on all of the prisons in San Andreas it had taken a couple months but it was being done. Though in some prisons in the others car, they had seperated Asians and Native American inmates, especially at Boilerbroke and even the one Paul had been killed in, there was fights.

The Asians were accusing any Native inmates of just being puppets for the South Side car. From the Native view, however, it was an attack on Paul that justified the rage. The Native car had stood alone before even if it wasn't all the way now in San Andrean prisons as far as Vagos Aztecas and Marabunta went but it could. The Asian car as far as they knew had never stood on their own. Fo this they were seen as cowards. The Native percentage and Asian percentage in prison was usually neck in neck nation wide but Asians always had to attach themselves to somebody else much like Jewish inmats did.

The kite had been sent out however. The message was clear. It's hot out here. Melt the Bering Bridge and get us some water. We're thirsty.

None of the guards had intercepted the letters because the Tibal Brotherhood had followed the Chicano Mafia's cue when it came to the mail system. While Paul himself had used a non affiliated third party inmate to mail a letter out to Onda contacts on the street who would then send the kite to whatever Ondero in whatever other prison he wanted to talk to, this wasn't the only way they had cheated the prison's surveillance of US mail. For years they had also used attorney and client privilege and so too, had the Tribal Brotherhood.

Now, as ordered from the Tribal Brotherhood on behalf of their fallen Mohawk brother, the word was out. It didn't matter what the population of American Indians were versus Asians. Asians, especially those of Filipino descent were to be stabbed or beaten on sight whenever possible. Now, armed with shanks and a few with padlocks in socks, ten inmates were making their way towards some Asians who were near the Northern Chicano car and the blacks. The blacks looked uncertain about what to do. The shot caller shot a look to the man running the yard for the Rifas. One of the Native inmates, a man of Miwok ancestry, pretended to get into a fight with an inmate of Eastern Shoshone ancestry. The guards rushed forward to break it up.

The Rifa and three of his homeboys got in front. The Rifa was a man of Apache and Mayan ancestry raised in the state capitol of San Andreas. Though his city was much farther north, he was down with most of the Rifas from the bay too seeing as he was locked up with many of them in here. He had light brown skin and his jet black hair was braided down to his back. He was lean yet athletic and he had been a boxer on the outside. He was doing an eight year stretch.

"Get the fuck outta the way, Drew..." Stated one of the inmates, a man of about 5'11, of Yuma ancestry with dark brown skin and slightly slanted black eyes. "I don't care who you are. This aint your business. Unless you're one of them..."

"Man, we run this pinta, bro. And I'm looked on to watch out for things here, man. I can't have you stepping the boundaries..."

"We're all Indios out here, man..." Stated a man of Mexica ancestry who was from East Ohlone. He had his hair tied in a Mongolian tail. "You aint the same as me..." Stated a man of about 5'10 with light brown skin in his early 40's a Crow Indian from Montana with a graying mustache. "You fags are Catholic!"

"You gonna deny that rez boys got catholics? This shit isn't happening...i aint letting it. I got my boys on the yard too. And your distraction is about to run out..."

The Yuma TB member stated, "Well I count four farmers, and four slopes. I like those odds. Did the rest of them get their asses deported to their rice paddies?" Asked a six foot tall brown skinned man of Laguna ancestry who was tall for a man of his tribe, possibly due to being part Nordic from a grandparent. "If you're gonna be racist you can join the scrapas in PC, man..." Stated Drew. "We run this yard."

"We're rez boys, not barrio. I got respect for Mayans but you're just another Marxist dick kisser with a shitty bay area attitude..." Stated a Mojave Indian from Las Venturas of about 5'8 who was scrawny without much muscle but fast in a fight. A taller man, with dark brown skin, who was half Dakota and half Navajo stated, "Bad enough you guys defend niggers. You even talk like those hasapas...and you defend a bunch of slopes that took out one of our own? And you call yourself Indian? Just cause you tattoo Aztec calendars on yourselves? At best you're a half breed. But at least the half breed we're defending had heart..."

"Hey those scraps do that shit too take that up with them. From what I heard about your boy Redwood his attitude got him killed."

The four Asians saw what was up. "Hey, we can handle these motherfuckers, Drew. If they want to make something of it..." Stated a Filipino who was from Ohlone and had a tattoo on the side of his neck indicating he was an Asian "Families" member.

"Just chill, Thom. If these fools make a move we're strapped too..." Drew stated. "You don't even got the element of surprise no more. Step off."

"Element of surprise is good...but it's not needed when your enemy is a bitch!" Stated the Yuma as he stabbed Drew in the chest three times. A pile of bodies, prison fatigues and blades and other makeshift weapons became obscured as the bodies descended on top of each other. The Dakota man whacked an Asian inmate of Laotian descent with a sock lock. He KO'd him with one blow as he hit him in the side of the head and he proceeded to turn on a Rifa of half Mexican half black and white descent, a man of six feet with dark brown skin and jet black straight hair slicked back yet gray eyes and despite that he looked more brown and black. He had stuck the Dakota-Navajo man in the right side. The Dakota, fueled by adrenaline, whacked him across the face with the weapon and the man fell over his nose bleeding.

"I don't give a fuck about your shoe war, bitch!" He screamed as he whacked the blade from his hand. More Rifas rushed over to try and help and the four Asian inmates soon found themselves crawling on the ground, bloodied and beaten from being hit with the padlocks and from stab wounds. The black inmates also came over to try and help the Rifas out as well but there was too many bodies between the Tribal Brotherhood, the Rifas and the Asians piling on each other and locked in grapples for them to be able to get in and do much good.

By the time the blacks and the backup Rifas got over there anyway, the guards had realized they had been duped and soon began to spray down the inmates with mace. A round was fired from the guard tower as well. Before it was over, three of the Native car members had stab wounds, nine Rifas had been stabbed with four of them dying, and three of the Asian inmates also succumbed to their wounds.

The Aryan Vanguard, having hit the ground as was expected shouted, "The fuck happened boss we didn't do that shit! I don't even know what the fuck that's about!" Screamed the bald headed gangster. A Caucasian guard in his early 40's with blue eyes and a salt and pepper beard yelled, "Connors, just shut the fuck up and stay down!"

"But what the fuck was that even about?!"

The troublesome inmates who had started the mini riot were taken away. Somehow, despite fighting, Drew had not been disciplined. He was seen as a victim. The Native car expected retaliation from the Rifas and it would likely be severe but they had shown the were not afraid to go over their head in a prison that they ran. Though the prison was only a level 2 and was nowhere near as violent as when it was a level 4 in the 70's and 80's, things could still happen here.

In Boilingbroke, more incidents happened. Benjamin and Curtis and three other Tribal Brotherhood members along with five Vagos, attacked eight Asian inmates in the showers resulting in five deaths. In Eagle Bay, a scuffle in the chowhall that was initially between Native and Asian inmates, ended up being a free for all brawl with the Southern Chicanos, Paisas and Native car, going pound for pound against the Asians, blacks, Rifas and Polynesians. The Woods had tried to step in but much like the black inmates at San Tarentino, by the time they got their weapons ready, the guards had already broken the brawl up and when the fight was almost over but not quite, the guards had flanked the AV affiliates macing them before they could make the fight any worse.

There were thirty injuries this time and eight deaths. Four of the deceased were Asian one was Native American, a man of Pueblo ancestry, stabbed to death by a Rifa. This inmate however, had killed one of the four Asians, a man of Chinese ancestry who had grown up in a mostly brown and black ghetto in East Ohlone. Who was said to be getting out of prison the very next day. The Pueblo Indian had wounded the Rifa who stuck the fatal blow before he went down.

Also among the dead were two blacks and two Chicanos. One of the blacks was just a regular guy from Pottersfield San Andreas who was in the wrong place at the wrong time and ended up on the business end of a blade from a dude from Cerco Blanco, in East Los Santos. The other black dude, was a stab crazy Baller named Jeffrey Anderson, from Davis, Los Santos and he had stabbed and critically wounded four Vagos and two Native inmates before he was stabbed in the face six times by a Native man of Northern Yaqui and Mexican ancestry with no gang affiliations and though cool with Mexicans, identified and ate with the Native car. The other Chicano inmate was a Rifa who had held off several Vagos and Marabunta members with a makeshift shank he made from his toothbrush and while he could not keep the angry Indian car from the Asian inmates, he kept many away from himself with swipes that hit soft brown skin.

He was about to stab a Mexican national from East Ohlone, a man he recognized as part of the gang Paisa Hermanos, a gang that sometimes warred with Vagos and other south side gangs and always rivaled with North Siders. He went to stab the man and did wound him but before he could finish him, a guard tower a spry African American with a Mini 14 rained hell killing him instantly just as had been done to a Vago the last time there was riots at Eagle Bay.

This same guard also fired on a Marabunta member who was trying to stab a badly wounded black inmate who was trying to shield his equally wounded Asian American friend and while he did not kill the Salvadoran gang member, he did shoot the man's left elbow out. Though only eight had died that day initially, a Fijin inmate of about six foot nine who had been tossing Vagos, Marabunta, Aztecas and Mexican nationals like rag dolls holding his own for the Polynesian inmates, he still had nine stab wounds from the men he was beating up on. The Native American inmates had more luck in getting him on the ground being bigger in size but the man still went down fighting and he was still bigger than the Tribal Brotherhood members still but according to him, one of his stab wounds was from them.

Nobody in the Fijin man's group knew that he had dry snitched and nobody from the Native car did either or any other cars. He still died the next morning from his injuries. Two more inmates were also shot and wounded. An AV member got a round in the back as he was trying to rush towards the fight with a weapon of his own and a black inmate, armed with two shanks covered in blood that didn't seem to be his own, from his fatigues to his entire face, was screaming and swinging his blades like a Zulu warrior at about four Aztecas trying to get them in the throats before he was shot in the right knee cap and had it blown out.

The CDC was not having it. Not only were half a dozen state prisons on lockdown, there was going to be a separation of the "Others" category so that even the Others would not be grouped in all at once. Mexican nationals as well as "Latinos" of ancestry other than Mexican as well as Native Americans would be allowed to be in the same recreational areas as each other while as before, Asians and Pacific Islanders were to be near each other but not with the former group.

To the Native inmates, regardless of gang affiliation Paul Hoffman was a martyr and a hero in terms of US tribal inmates because he had avenged the death of Curtis, the healer with extreme prejudice and justice for murdered Indians in or out of prison was rare. To the Asian inmates, they saw this as unprovoked aggression and many were asking the question, "What did Asians ever do to Native Americans?"

To the white and black inmates as well as Polyesians, even though they too were seen as "Others" with Others being pawns of a larger prison group, they saw the Tribal Brotherhood as pawns of La Onda and were just crash dummies but this was not the case. In fact, in the early days of Native inmates in eras where established prison gangs ran the yards as well as street gangs, the Tribal Brotherhood had once been hostile to all in the 70's and 80's and had to be to survive. This had meant that back then, especially at Eagle Bay, hey had considered La Onda, the Aryan Vanguard, the Blck Guerilla Army and Nuestra Syndicato to be their enemies equally and had to fight and sometimes kill people from each group just so city and rez Natives would not be victims of robbery from larger gangs.

Though they shared a racial heritage with Chicanos, especially in those days, they were reluctant to consider themselves as exactly the same for the simple fact that many Mexican Americans and most Mexican nationals were Catholic and The Tribal Brotherhood was about traditions.

Any changes to the relationships they had with the South Side Raza and Northern Raza was in later years. Why had some American indians if not many, allied with the South Siders? Was it due to their dominance as the stronger group in San Andreas? Perhaps it was the fact that Onda was anti Christian while Nuestro Syndicato tolerated it. Surely, US tribals might find issue with both the NS and Onda having anti homosexual views as the two spirits were respected in tribal societies. Sure, many Vagos, Aztecas and Mareros had also been raised Catholic but many Onderos worshpped Aztec gods. The theory as to why they banned members from being Christian was not exactly the same reason as homosexuality was not tolerated and really, the latter was not something US Natives enforced within their own groups so much as it was just a thing they noticed that south siders were against.

The reason Onda tended to frown on Christianity was that it was a religion that most dropouts turned to. From Mundo Mendez in the 70's to a more recent dropout who had snitched in 2002, written a book, and become a Mendez was more of a fading memory that mostly only the few old time onderos even remembered anymore but the other one was more fresh in mind.

The Tribal Syndicate, for all their folly as many more were transferred to other prisons or put in the SHU and would likely be seen as a security threat group as most prison gangs tended to be, had achieved what they wanted. They had not cut down the man that had killed Paul. They were not yet aware that he was not even dead and in fact it was the other way around. Still, they had gotten what they wanted. Violent reprisal against any Asian inmates they saw, fear that Asians perhaps had not had in over a century since they lacked the ancestral memory of Chinese railroadmen being scared shitless of Geronimo and other Apaches who cut telegraph lines and attacked railroads. Whether back then or now the average Asian American knew Martial Arts, it had done them little good.

And now there was more hatred between the two. Even if it might not have a long term impact on statewide relations, there was still hate among those involved.

Packie

Purgatory, Algonquin.

Liberty City

March 17, 2015

He was back after the shit that had been going on. He needed some time for his own personal business. He was surprised that the kid he had known was still alive. He'd somewhat grieved himself when he heard that the kid had died on death row and now his trial was under way while he was still recovering from injuries and needed crutches. Now he was hearing that Neto and Ivan were off dealing with the situation down south, whatever it may be. Packie viewed it as a waste of time. He didn't see any strategic value in New Arcadia for any of their criminal activities. Sure, it might have been a city with serious crime and a drug trade that was not to be understimated but he wanted nothing out of that city.

A lot of rednecks down there hated people from Liberty City and Packie hated people from down there. He resented the fact that all though both northerners moving to the south was common and southerners up north, Packie realized how much hostility there was towards people from the north over a war his family hadn't even been in country for. Because of this, ovr the year whenever he'd seen them come up there, all though many people in Liberty City were friendly towards people from Arkansas, Louisiana, Georgia and places like that, Packie would tell them to fuck off back to whatever bum fuck hick town they came from. To Packie's view, all the great cities were on the west and the north east coast. None of the southern cities mattered to him except maybe Vice City but that wasn't a real southern city. it had too many beautiful beaches, Cubans, hot women, and a night life better than anywhere in the real south. Not a bunch of fags sore about the Civil War, no KKK, as it would be suicidal in a city that diverse, there were churches but it still had the airs of a northern city.

But Packie had no plans to go to New Arcadia. if he did it would hve to be something he'd be paid for. Or unless he discovered that any of the people either involved with Gerry getting locked up were there. That was what his business was today. There had been a number of pigs that had been involved in arresting his brother seven years ago. No doubt, Francis stroked their dicks with extreme prejudice at the notion of locking up his blood brother.

Packie had his eyes on a cop who had been among the N.O.O.S.E team that took down the door to ma's brownstone and arrested Gerry. The bar was the same bar he had shared many a drink with Niko Bellic. Now as the St Patrick's Day Parade was happening, he wasted no time. There was only cops in the bar right now. He spotted him. He spotted them. Three out of six names that had arrested his brother though there were others and Packie wanted them all. He wanted Francis to see his empire of lies fall before he killed him.

Packie, to show how serious he was, had not had a drink despite having every reason to not only for his woes but given the day it was. The first man was William Rooney. Forty years old and a fifteen year veteran of the LCPD. He'd been in shape in the days that he busted Gerry but he was overweight now. He had shaggy red hair that was graying fast. He was about 5'10 and had gray eyes. He was nursing a whiskey. He wore a shabby brown coat over his white shirt and he had a pair of overalls over it with his holster with him. Packie smirked. He was pretty sure a pig, even an off duty one wasn't supposed to have his weapon so accessible like that.

The next man was Cory Rafferty, thirty five. He was an Irish American much like the former but while Rooney was from Dukes, a stones throw from where the family household was, Cory was from Purgatory, all though it was the watered down gentrified yuppie version of had blonde hair and blue eyes and chubby pink cheeks that somehow always made him look intoicated even when he wasn't. He had put tear gas through Ma's window. Next was Jared Dimagio. A guido vice detective that had long since been suspected by both Iris American and Italian Americans of being on the payroll of the Five Families. He was thirty seven and had jet black hair in a Cesar haircut, olive colored skin and a thin black mustache. He was dressed more casually in a black t shirt blue jeans and a Swingers jacket hung on his chair.

There were two more pigs he did not recognize, the first, a Caucasian American of Anglo descent with long blonde curly hair wearing a white dress shirt and black slacks. The other was also a white male, this one of Polish ancestry with a shaved head and a blonde mustache with piercing blue eyes. They sat at the bar.

Motherfuckers...you destroyed my family! Packie also knew that some of the other pigs in the arrest had transferred to other cities. Some to Los Santos, others to Vice City. Though he had always wanted to travel to other states, that was part of it too.

The parade was perfectly loud. Packie reached for his Glock 18. "You remember me?" He asked. "No...should I? You aint on the force I know that..." Stated Rooney. "That's okay..." Packie said. "I remember you..you locked up my brother..."

Rooney managed to clear his gun from his holster at surprising speed.

Packie at the same time, pulled out out the readied handgun and pulled the trigger striking Rooney once in the hand, his gun hand and a blast of crimson drenched his hand and the gun itself with a sickening splat and as the man fell from his chair, Packie sent another two shots towards his groin and one went through the chair and into the floor as he fell over and one went into his groin striking his left testicle. The cop screamed in agony. His shirt had ghastly bloody rips in it as ghastly looking as the rips in his skin as the bullets penetrated his flesh. The sound of the shooting was drowned out by the bagpipes playing on the street as the parade went by.

The other off duty cops cleared their holsters as well including Detective Rafferty who fired at him. Packie ducked as he fired and now the bartender had come up with a shotgun, he could not tell what kind just that it was small, compact and with a black strap and he fired at Packie who was now squeezing off rounds trying to keep the bartender and the other cops pinned until he could get to a position of bartender had been wiping up a table but had managed to get to his shotgun and now was firing from the far side of where he was at the end of the bar from Packie. Rooney's pistol had discharged twice as he fell over.

He fired a shot and glass exploded as bottles and shot glasses were obliterated and he squeezed off another shot. Packie, taking cover at the far corner of the bar came up firing and one rond hit the pinball machine and it too went up in an explosion of sparks.

Packie felt a few of the sparks hit him as the glass exploded and rained all around him from the shotgun blast. He managed to land a shot in the bartender's upper left shoulder as he saw the red of his shirt filling out over the white fabric. He managed to hit the bartender in the stomach with another round and then a shot in the heart and the shotgun exploded yet again as the bartender fell over. Cory, Jared and the remaining cops fired at him trying to clip him.

Packie fired striking the blonde curly haired officer twice one in each knee and he fell against the pinball machine which was still shooting sparks and as a result, he was electrocuted and he shook as he fried against it. His clothes also caught fire. Packie was suddenly hit by the other cop he was unaware of name wise and he was hit in the right arm. Packie cried out in pain and the cop sneered firing off five more rounds to try and blast him out from cover. Packie did come out rolling and he missed two shots. Packie hit him once in the lower left hip bordering the waistline and he watched the red gush from the wound and before the man could react to it, he fired striking the man in the chest on the left side and then again once more where the left shoulder and collar bone met striking him in the artery.

Packie took Rooney's pistol in addition to his own and began firing off rounds and he managed to hit Dimagio with eight rounds, four from each pistol. The Italian American cop managed to fire back striking him once in the right hip. Packie emptied what remained of Rooney's Handgun into the falling officer mostly beating a dead horse in doing so. Now it was just down to him and Cory but before Packie knew it, he was empty of the Glock too. He had to duck down and reload. He came up as Rafferty was firing through the bar and at the bar raning more glass down on Packie and more sparks and he was trying to shoot him everywhere he could possibly be. Packie got up. He began to fire at the last cop, both having fifteen feet on each other. Packie saw from the blood on his shirt in the chest area that he had atually wounded Rafferty without realizing he'd even hit him.

However, a bullet from Rafferty hit Packie in the abdomen. "Fuck!" He cried out. A shot narrowly missed Packie's ear and Packie, despite his injury, raised his gun but Cory Rafferty had him dead to rights. He aimed between Packie's eyes and pulled the trigger. He struck Rafferty in the forehead just a few inches above his nose but still higher than between his eyes. He dropped the pistol as he fell. He was drowsy from his wounds. The parade outside was obvlivious. Packie didn't think he had the strength to get up.

A door opened and he held up his Glock but was too weak to fire anymore. Liam and Donovan had been waiting outside. They had been his ride. In truth, they knew the neighborhood better because all though the McReary's had ran it in the past, these two had stayed despite gentrification and all. Liam helped him to his feet. "Shit, he caught one in the gut, Don..."

"We'll deal with it when we get back to fuckin Samantha's. She's gotta dig that thing outta him but a bullet to the gut, I don't know..." Donovan then fired at the already spilled alcohol. It went ablaze and he grabbed two bottles from the bar pouring half of one out around the room including all over the dead cops and fired at the trail of booze and then helped his brother get Packie into the dark green Willard. "Carmen..." Packie stated. "I trust her...let her help me..."

"No fuckin way. I don't care how cool you are with the Puerto Ricans. We're not going all the way to Bohan just so you can get a sponge bath...Sammy's closer..."

"I don't know Sammy..."

"Liam, can you keep him fuckin calm I'm trying to drive here!"

"Fuck...Liam said. "We should have helped him."

"He's a big boy, boyo. He insisted on it. I aint keen on burying another McReary brother either but he wanted those cocksuckers to is probably gonna make whoever else locked Gerry up wonder if Packie's coming for them next. It'd be better if they were just unsure though. It HAS been seven years."

"It'll have half the cops in the city looking for us. Those pricks in there are considered hero cops. The douche bag and the pollack? One of em busted up a child prostitution ring the Triads were running. The pollack, he and his boys put away six of the Uptown dealers. They found like $50,000 worth of shit. If they can move that much why even stay in North Holland?"

"Same reason we do in Purgatory...history..shit that's what today's all about, right? Hang in there Pack. We got you man..." Donovan made a quick call as he was driving to the woman they were taking him to.

They pulled up to the West Side apartment. "We're here...hang in there bro..." The voices faded and Packie watched blood drool from his mouth to the ground as the two brothers carried him up.

Paul

Manitou Federal Institution

April,19, 2015

He was at the "Mountain" a prison that had been founded in the 1800's and despite having Native healing institutions in the minimum and medium security wings, it was still a notorious prison for gangs. The Angels Of Death were the reason so many First Nations gangs were created to defend themselves. K:or never quite understood it himself. The Indian Clique had been one of the earliest gangs founded of First Nations descent and yet if they were going to be friends with the Angels, what were they even existing for? Who were they there to defend against if they were pals with white bikers?

They had put K:or in the maximum security wing, pending his adjustment to a different prison and to see how he would behave. For now, he was still in the hospital of the prison waiting for his feet to be better. He didn't need physical therapy but he needed his feet to be better before he could walk again. A man of Cree ancestry was the one who brought him food and helped the doctor out. The man had short black hair and it was graying. He was middle aged and Metis and had a handle bar mustache that almost made him look Mexican except he was six foot five and broad shouldered. He was probably in his early 20's when the young orphan was born. He was an OG. But whenever he asked any other Warriors, even others in the same hospital wing as him with wounds, they would say to ask him. His name was Jean Chastian. He couldn't find out his street name.

They'd talked quite a bit. He had the air of somebody who had been there and done that and he even had tatoos indicating he was a Warrior. Whenever K:or asked him about it, he would avoid the question. As he changed Paul's bandages he said, "You know...if you show good behavior..".I can put in a good word for you to get put in the medium security wing. Minimum is probably too much to ask. It's too much even for me but well...you were on death row. Even if it was in the states.

"Yeah well it's just too bad the death penalty aint back the way it used to be. I could be out of this world."

"You don't need to be out of this world. You don't need death. You need life."

"How would you know what I need? You won't even tell me what the fuck you did to get in here. You obviously got some juice in here. Maybe you were around from day one. But just cause you decide to stop being a Warrior doesn't mean I did..."

"You went back to the states. That's what i heard. Mighty Redwood...Mohawks came from the southern border to escape the craziness of the US. Driven out of your old home into our other home. A lot of your people used to be sad about that. All the way back to the Revolutionary War. When your people fought alongside Tecumseh you were still legendary as warriors and statesmen but you were a shadow of your former selves."

"I don't need to be told my own history. I fuckin know it..." Paul growled.

"I know. But where as your ancestors ran from the land hungry colonists you ran back into the fire. But you left your rez, your friends up here..."

"I haven't had an easy life. And I dpon't think you have either if you've been here as long as i think you have, man. You're a lifer right? Well I'm gonna be you. Except I can never get behind the peace of it. I could have died in San Andreas. I should have. Death for a crime I did would be better than life here for..."

"You're gonna say you didn't do it, right?"

Paul just avoided his gaze. "I did it...I didn't want to do it...but i did it..."

"The Angels...I' fought them for years. Friends that know who you are and what you were like...everybody knows where you stand on miscegenation. But nothing about your character would tell me you did this. Not to a woman you loved. I got word from Dawn. We write to each other sometimes. I see her as like a daughter. You were going to marry her. Lucifer said that you did it cause of the kind of men she was with when you were gone. But...that story doesn't sound true. You patched it up. So what happened?"

Paul violently jerked even though he was cuffed to the bed. The guard, a Caucasian male with blonde gelled hair and gray eyes standing six feet got ready to act if he had to. "It's cool, Jeremy. We're fine here..."

"I killed Aila..." Paul said closed his eyes as if to sleep but really he wanted to stop the tears that he could feel coming. "The 'why' doesnt fuckin matter."

"You need healing. Your spirit is wounded brother. You've got PTSD."

"Do I look like a fuckin jarhead?"

"You know it doesn't just apply to US Marines."

"I fuckin know that. I don't have PTSD. i'm just another fuckin inmate who's never getting outta here that fucked up his life. Who wouldn't be pissed about it?"

Paul's trial had been highly publicized. Amnesty international had even gotten involved hoping to keep the First Nations youth from ending up back in San Andreas to serve out his death row sentence. He was still a Canadian citizen. Ordinarily, he could be extradited for a crime commited in the United States since it was committed in the Unites States but the highest court in Canada ruled it would be unconstitutional to extradite him to the US unless there was assurances he would not face execution.

A case like this had not happened in over 25 years when a couple of Arabs had faced murder charges in the Pacific North West on the US side. The irony was, Paul had wanted to die. Since it was ruled he was not to be extradited, he was going to do life.

He turned over crying into his pillow silently so as not to draw attention. His tears were flowing because not only did he have to live with what he did to Aila day after day but he also knew that his mothers birthday was just days ago and she wasn't around either. "Just think about it, skin. This place...it's not the place to be but it's at least a prison with a healing unit, little Mikaana."

"You think I don't know about that shit, homes?" Asked Paul with his face in the pillow. "Better yet do i look like an idiot?"

"Look...I look at you...and i know you've killed...but I don't think you killed that girl...but you are traumatized...it has nothing to do with me thinking anything about you..."

"The point of those healing units...and their spiritual services...is to get our people reintroduced into society, right? Readjustment and spiritual peace, all of that, right?"

"In a word? Yeah..."

"Then what the FUCK good does that do me? I'm in here for life. The only way I'm getting outta here is when they carry me out in a box. Those fucking Royal Crown judges were thinking they were being merciful. Humanitarian. The most humane thing to do was to let me die, man. But you know what they said?" He wiped his tears on the pillow turning his head but his eyes were red. The First Nations inmate was not judging. "You see...it used to be in the 1800's...anybody in jail was usually on their way to a hanging. Jails were just holding places for people."

"Yeah I know..." Jean stated. "Horse thieves got lynched. Especially people like us."

"Yeah...but then some quaker FAGGOTS got it in their head that people should be locked up in cages to think about what we did and reflect. So now you get people in for whatever made up sentence a judge decides on. They act like the mandatory sentences for anything is even set in stone and it's not. We're 3% of the population here...but 18% of inmates."

"Neechie, you are preaching to the choir. Better yet you're preaching to the preacher. What are you saying, kid?"

"I'm saying what the High Court said. They referred to the fucking original intent of prisons as a way to deter inmates instead of death row. And this is already a country that hasn't executed anybody since 1962. They thought they were being humanitarian...as they sent me to this place. The fuckin oldest federal prison in the country. Yeah, they closed down that Queenston place two years ago so this is the oldest federak pen in the country. So now you got more skins from my old stomping grounds. Not just Crees. You'll be seeing more people like me..."

"We already have. And a lot of them are in gangs like you. You know...I loved bein from this province on the outside. And I loved my Nehiyaw culture I still do. But I wish one thing we hadn't passed to our brothers east of here...Red Warriors and Indian Clique. It's just another divide and conquer tactic. And guys like me are to blame. You're a smart guy. There are men twice your age don't know what you know."

"And that means nothing in here, Jean. Less than nothing. What do you expect me to do, stop Warrin? In here of all places?"

"It's not easy but I did it. Brothers didn't agree but I was there from the start and I did my dirt through the 90's and what has it earned me? I don't even get to see my kids. I dont even know what province they're in now. But you think there aren't Dead Beats here still that would love to slice me up? The only reason they don't now is the youngsters still have respect for me and would make their lives hell. Same with IC but one day who knows? There can always be somebody from the other side that doesn't care. All that matters to them is their rep. Isn't that gang banging in a nut shell? Life changing actions without regard for consequences? But I'm living mine every day. And I'm here. Doing the best I can to try and undo everything I've done. I can't change who I hurt. But I can try and help people that are headed the same direction I am."

"I'm not looking for redemption..." K:or stated. "Let's say I didn't mean to blow her up, man. Let's say what you heard from R dubs on the outside that wre there, saying I was forced to hold a dead man's switch. Does that bring my girl back? Does it undo my conviction? Hell no. You look at the news, they call me a half breed red supremacist. And you got Natives and Non Natives running my name through the mud. They're talking all about the loss of my mom, what a loser my dad was, talking about how we were excomminucated from the rez I was born on...yeah these motherfuckers in the media ACTUALLY think THAT is part of the motivation of why I did what I did. They think that shit fueled my hate all these years."

"We all got hate, K:or. But it shouldn't consume you."

"What else is there? I'm HERE. My life...no matter what I do to better myself will mean nothing in here. Not to me because it will never be good enough to give m freedom. They're fucking debating about my time with Onda and whether it was R Dub...or fuckin San Andrean prison gangs that influenced the way I think. But none of that shit was ME before 2013, man. I was set up out there and betrayed I was set up here and betrayed. But I trusted the dudes that did it to me in San Andreas. Here I should have known better. A devil is a devil."

He looked the older gangster in his eyes. "You know your own history. The first inmates they brought to this shit hole was Big Bear, One Arrow and Poundmaker...they died in here as prisoners of war. And so will I. So this place may have some programs that can help Onkwehonwe people out but I aint one of them, man."

"Actually, they let them out cause their health was bad and they died shortly after," Stated Jean.

"Yeah, what a joy their last days were. Free just long enough to not enjoy it? That's like getting asphyxiated with a plastic bag, then having them let it go and let you get air in your lungs before they put a bullet in your shit? This aint mercy."

"Jean, get a move on, man. Back to your cell. This aint a country club..." Stated a white guard. As the RW OG moved to obey the guard he sneered. "Not like I would be allowed in one if it was..."

He turned to the wounded ex hitman. "You're here...like it or not and you have to learn to live with yourself. Those quakers? They may be full of shit in a lot of what they believe in. They don't like technology, they don't respect women but they're right about self reflection. You say what good would it do if you live and better yourself in here? What good does dying do? That's the easy way out."

Two Days Later

He was finally allowed to be put into gen pop. His feet had healed and he could walk without crutches. He went to the bathroom. Just then, two light brown skinned Natives appeared in the urinals next to him. The first had light brown hair light brown skin and hazel eyes and a wide nose which had a scar from a knife on the left side of it. He was six feet tall. Paul noticed from his tattoo that he was bear clan like him. The other was also the same tribe and he too, had a tattoo indicating he was the same clan. "She:kon, bro. Where are you from?"

"You already know who I am. So you know where I'm from."

"Yeah. We're from the same place. Just moved out here though. Winnipek is more our style."

"And closer to Indian Clique..." He said with a glare. "Yeah and we know you're with the Warriors. But before you go calling us sellouts, just remember. We aint cool with the Viking Posse. We hate those cocksuckers same as you. This is prison. We shouldn't be at war with each other."

"And yet somehow I don't think you've come up to me in the name of friendship. So are you gonna make your or are you gonna stand here and watch me with my dick in my hand?"

"No problem, cuz. Just understand we can't have you starting trouble with the Angels. You and your uh...views..." The other stated, "Yeah it always is the half breeds that feel they gotta be the most brutal, man..."

"I suggest you two get the fuck outta here..." Paul growled. Just then, one stall door opened up and a pair of black dudes, one 5'9 and in his mid twenties with curly blondish brown hair and hazel eyes and a scar on his chin from a knife fight, walked out. The other was darker and about Paul's height. He had a lazy right eye and two gold front teeth. They were both from the OP crew. The bathroom door opened and two Angels of Death walked in. The first had curly blonde hair and brown eyes and a resting sneer. He stood five eleven.

The other had gray eyes and short curly brown hair and stood 6'1. He had a tattoo of a swastika on his right arm. "No, we're from English Columbia. But we're just fine with Lucifer. Good brother. Made a lot of money with him. You know what you and I got in common?" The gray eyed one asked. "Not a damn thing..." Paul said.

The man showed his chest lifting his shirt. On the left side of his chest was a tattoo that said 7%er. "I thought you outlaw motorcycle fags were 1%?"

"7% is the amount of prisoners in this motherfucker doing life," Stated the black gangster with the teeth. "See me? I'm doing ten. I got nine more to go. This nigga right here?" He pointed to his friend and it was obvious the two were snorting speed inside the stall. "This petty motherfucker's doing four years."

"

"Well well well...if it aint the notorious Redwood. Lucifer sends his regards. He's having a good old time out there. Getting to eat what he wants, fuck when he wants...course you fucked that up didn't ya? In one blow."

"If you're one of his groupies you know goddamn well what really happened."

"Yeah well it's outta his hands and into mine now..." The Angel growled. "You probably don't even realize just how many of my brothers you killed do you? Well it's a lot. Hell, between all the chapters between here and Liberty City, I'd say it's gotta be about 100."

"What are you gonna do about it, wood?" The Angel lunged at him. Paul didn't waste a second. There was no time to be bad ass. Not in here. Only practical. He kicked the man's right knee in from the side and almost smiled at the sound of it popping as well as the squeal it earned. "Hurts doesn't it?" He sneered. the other Angel charged at him as well punching him in the face, punching him in the stomach. Paul grabbed him in a headlock with his right arm and punched him as hard as he could with his left. He threw the Angel towards the stall but the Angel grabbed the wall with his right arm stopping his face from hitting it. Paul ax kicked the man's arm breaking it. The two blacks came at him, however.

One of them had a blade. He narrowly dodged a swipe towards his right eye. It was close enough to take a few hairs from his left brow. The other black inmate hopped on his back and tried to shank him in the neck but Paul quickly backed up into a closed stall door breaking it with the man between them and this knocked the wind out of the man and before the OP gang member could even ponder the breath stolen from his lungs, he hit his head on the toilet. The other OP member swung his shank at him too and he backed off. Paul grabbed the man's knife hand and drove a knee into his stomach. "You know I did this to a guy in High School in Bohan...let's see how you like it!" He threw him head first into the sink.

He then held the shank in hand turning on the two Mohawk IC members. "You want some too?"

"Hey man...we're the same clan...we couldn't war with you if we wanted to..." Stated the first. "But there's other brothers after you in here."

"The rules of clanhood don't really apply in prison though do they?"

"We're still Mohawks...no matter where we are..."

"I don't think I'm gonna take that chance..." Paul stated. "They'll just give me another life sentence..."

"They'll throw your ass in solitary. The guards..."

Paul tossed the blade without a word leaving the gang members on the ground. "Yeah well these woods don't got any love for them, right? i say we let the hacks think that it is what it looks like. You better keep your mouths shut."

3 Days Later

After a short lockdown after the fight, he had ended up going back to his job working the laundry was getting used to the routine. Their doors would be cracked at 7AM. Breakfast was from a 7:15 AM to 8AM. Then lockup for about ten minutes. Work started from 8:15 to 11:30 AM. Then they'd go back to lockup and then have a count. At noon they started serving meals again and after the meal it was back to lockup and a quarter after 1, there was another work release which lasted still about 4:30 in the afternoon.

A Warrior was with him a man of Cree ancestry. He was about 5'10 in height with a mean scowl to his deep brown eyes and he had a buzz cut. He could have passed for a cholo in San Andreas if he didn't speak but instead of Vagos, Marabunta or Azteca tattoos, he had a tattoo of the number 1823 with 18 and 23 being the respective numbers for R and W in the alphabet. He was a Cree and he saw based on his tattoos that he was from the Buffalo Butte Cree Nation, a reserve located within the province.

"You know you're probably one of the most hated people in here, right?" He said. His street name was Hardline. "The Dead Beats already hate you. The Indian Clucks hate you. And to dudes from out here, man you might be big time back east and you might have even made some moves out in San Andreas. That aint easy for a dude from Canada. But to me, man, you're just another striker. We've the ones who've been fighting and dying out here. To me, dudes from Teranto representing RW are just wannabes till I see otherwise."

"You think we're not fighting and dying out there? The exact same enemies. If you knew what i'd done for our brotherhood you'd either be shaking with fear or kissing my ass. And you'r right. I don't know these neighborhoods out here as well. My people are from the eastern side of the map on both sides of the border. I can't help that if we never were as big in numbers as you Nehiyaw fuckers. But I can tell you this. If you saw the shit we were doing to those Dragon Circle Jerks and anybody that was with them, you'd have respect for us."

"Yeah, well you can say all of that but the truth is, Shep might have family out east but he's fuckin bred out here on the same kinda streets as me. We're built tougher out here. Neechies out east? Shit man it aint First Natios making noise. It's alwas the Africans, the Irish, the Jamaicans, and the Asians you hear about."

"Yeah, that's because the RW's only spread east in more recent years but it's starting to be just like out west. We fight IC's we fight dead beats. We fight African posses out there and that's a lot harder for us to do out there than it is out here where you outnumber them. You go to East Teranto, some neighborhoods you'd think it was Somalia if it wasn't snowing. So before you say this and that about Teranto, think about howw outnumbered we are. There's 92,000 Natives in your city, man. Largest Native population in the country. Us we only got 46,000 in Teranto."

"Yeah, but you got south siders from the states to help you. And you were fuckin Onda, right? You'e gone Mexican on us right? Well why don't you get some of the to help your boys out there?"

"What all seventeen of them? This isn't the states where there's been barrios and generations of segregation, a Mexican American war and zoot suit riots. It aint the same history up here."

"No, it's not cause Crees get shit on the most in this country man! And where the fuck are we gonna run to? At least the Ese's get something better than where they come from but somebody like you and me? It's gonna be the same shit if we go to the states or Canada but then you already knew that...so did you do what they say you did? Let me guess...you're innocent, right?"

"Why you testing me?" Demanded K:or. "I already told you. You're a striker. Me I'm a sgt. So it's rank in here even if you're a Dub from another city or province. You have to impress me. If I decide I don't want you here, I can get your ass transferred to another work detail."

"Fine...if I can work with Shep given what he thinks about halfers I can work with you if you let me. And by that I mean actually let me."

"What are you trying to say?" Demanded the higher ranking Warrior. K:or held his ground but did not make any challenging gestures or expressions. He calmly stated, "Meaning if I do something that makes me worthy of your respect, don't be the guy that moves the goal post. That's all I'm saying."

"I haven't moved any goal posts. But you aint earned my respect yet either, half breed. It's one thing to fuck up one of our enemies. The bathroom...that wasn't exactly quiet. It wasn't too loud like the chow hall either but still. That shit could have gone much further south than it did. What if a CO would have walked in there? I know Jean wants to transfer you to the medium security wing or at least get you in the healing unit. It might be good for you. You might be less of an asshole that way. And don't think I haven't heard on the streets what fuckers say about you. You don't wanna go to sweats cause it aint a Iroquois thing. Well Iroquois aint known for being snobs when it comes to medicine. Your Seneca brothers, the western door don't they got like thirty three dances? Well ten of em is from Algonquins like us. Part of how your people won in wars against Algonquins was adaptability. How else would 4000 Iroquois defeat 20,000 of us?"

He knew he was referring to the beaver wars in the 1600's. The reason that they had won, was in fact because a lot of the Algonquin leadership was also a lot less centralized but it was also true that the tribes like the Ojibwe had been among the Algonquins who had been their best Algonquin speaking adversary in that war by far because even while more eastern Algonquin nations didn't have as strong or as centralized ledership, the Ojibwe did. And the Ojibwe and Cree were pretty much the same people.

"So you do go to them? The sweats?"

"Sometimes...after a war...truth is, like you I'm not sure I believe anymore but I try to. And let's get one other thing straight, man. You better always show Jean respect. He might be inactive but that doen't matter. If I hear about you ever disrespecting him I'll kill you myself."

Paul crossed his arms. "Fine..." Stated the Canadian gunmen. "What's his deal anyway? I know he was like an old school OG but what's the deal? He's seen as untouchable by pretty much everyone and given a job in the medical ward. He obviously didn't snitch or he wouldn't be in gen pop so why does he get so much slack? And why is he trying to talk to me like a father? See i hd a father and if you watched the news...you know how that happened."

"Yeah I do. You better not..." Began the Cree gangster and he stopped him. "I'm not. I'm just saying I don't do well with father figures."

"Maybe he thinks you lacked one. Knowing who your dad was, it's true that guy was a bigger piece of shit than Jean ever was in the past..." He then softened his tone. "No offense. My old man was the same way. Mean drunk. Smacked my mom around. I wish I killed him. Instead I just beat the shit outta him when I was big enough and then cut his face with a broken bottle. Haven't seen him since."

"None taken. Harlan was a piece of shit..."

"But as for why he didn't tell you who he used to be? He's not proud of the shit he's done for the R Dub. And if he aint telling you yet then you aint meant to know, skin. Simple as that. Now get bak to work. We got a long way to go here..."

He also nodded towards a young RW member of Dene descent. Denes were related to the Dine more often known as Navajo and Ndeh's more commonly referred to as Apaches. He was a dark skinned full blood. He had an almost Asian look to his eyes and he had his long hair tied back in a ponytail. He was 5'8 but athletic, having played baseball when he was on the outside. "That's my boy, Seymour Bush," The slender First Nations gangster nodded. "What's up, You prefer Paul or K:or?"

"K:or."

"What are you in for?" He asked. "Murder..." Paul said. "I didn't do it..." This earned an eyeroll from Hardline. "I'm in for DWI and vehicular manslaughter, reckless endangerment. And I did do it," The gangster said with a grin and one missing front top tooth that he had lost in a fight with a white inmate, as K:or would later find out. "I know it's a crying shame and a fuckin cliche but it is what it is, skin."

There was another Native man, this was in his mid twenties and he had light brown skin almost a yellowish tint but he was Homalco. "That's Derrick Williams. We call him Buck Eye though."

Buck Eye was a seemingly friendly dude for a guy in prison. Which made what he was in for more of a surprise. "This crazy Indian stabbed a fuckin pig when he was sixteen. Attempted murder."

"No shit?"

"RCMP."

K:or knew it wouldn't be wise to tell them that he had killed many cops on this side and the other side of the border. You never knew when a jail house snitch was listening. "How did they not shoot you? Pigs love shooting rez dogs, man and a cop killer attempted or not? You're lucky."

"They were sweating my mom, my dad, my brothers and all my cousins. Helicopters, roadblocks up and down the interstates. I knew i wouldn't get away on my own. I knew they could shoot me too if they wanted. So what I did was surrender I did everything they said. And I'm twenty five. Been in here ever since. Been denied parole twice. I'm not showing up anymore. They aint gonna let me out but at least my baby brother aint in the life. Truth is, neither was I aside from slinging bud till I landed up on the inside. But that pig used to rough me up a lot and I just got tired of it. Because of me he only has one lung. Desk dutied that bitch for life."

"That's probably why they aint let you out, neechie..." Stated Seymour. "Not that they'll be letting me out either, I'm sure..."

K:or would later find out that Hardline would be up for parole in 2018 but he didn't expect to get out. It didn't matter. Whether they wold or would not get out any time soon, the three of them had a chance. K:or would be in for life and there was no way out unless he maybe snitched but he wasn't up for that. It crossed his mind he might not have qualms about dropping the dime on an enemy but he wouldn't do it on the Warriors. Even if he dropped a dime on the enemies, he would be done if he did as far as the Warriors were concerned and they were about all he had left.

Then again, as tired as he was and as much as he wanted to lay down and die, and be done with life, he was kept awake at nights wondering just how exactly Lucifer wasn't dead just in terms of the fact that he had served him up and collected the reward money for it. How his fellow bikers were okay with this, or at least the national president, was beyond him. Surely, there was other Warriors on the streets that were wanting to war with Lucifer too but none of them had the skills that K:or did. K:or may not have been around Mai, Ivan or Neto for that long but in the time that he had, he had certainly picked up a lot of deadly skills. Even Tanaka had made him better at hand to hand combat.

As he left the bathroom later that day, he felt a sudden cold and sharp pain in his back. Then another. It repeated and he fell to the floor before he could even brace himself to fall. He cried out in looked up weakly to see the two Mohawks from the bathroom that had been there for the fight with the bikers and the OP's. They had been hiding in the side wall waiting for him to take the corner. It was true that Mohawks generally were known for sneak warfare even in the modern day despite being generally big guys. He knew that those two had been too big of chicken shits to take him on face to face even two on one but that didn't matter now.

The next thing he knew, he was on a stretcher back in the hospital ward as he coughed blood onto the mattress and he heard the nurses and doctors all around talking about what to get him yelling frantically as they tried to save his life. One of them sneered next to his ear. "Weekend Warriors are nothing but a bunch of sniffers. Trying to make themselves look big. All you are is IC dropouts, bitch. That's all you'll ever be."

Blackness. Cold.

When he came to, after they had stabilized him and he could only assume gave him surgery as well, or maybe not, he found it was dark. He didn't know if it had been days or just hours but he found Jean at his side again. "Hey..." He whispered. "I do want you to still come with me to the healing unit when you're better. I want you to help make a better life for yourself..."

K:or blinked. God, dude i almost died can't you give it a rest?

"But if theres assholes out there that want to start shit with you, I can't get that done. And I know about your thing with not warring with the same clan. You can't even war with another tribe in the six nations if they're the same clan. But the rest of us, we can...we warred with you guys for centuries over the woodlands. At the end of the day, I want unity among all our nations but some apples are going to always try and stop that. It's not inter tribal rivalry or even Native on Native violence per say, if you kill a traitor. It's not like before when we were killing each other over resources before the settlers came. This time it's different. I've taken more level headed Indian Clique kids to the healing units and helped them too but those guys are beyond help. So I need to know. Do you want me to take care of them?"

The young mixed blood nodded without a word. Later that night, a Metis inmate managed to pay the guards to let them into the cell of the two inmates as they were sleeping. Hardline, Buck Eye and Seymour made their way into the cell. Buck Eye put the pillow over the head of the first man who had stabbed Redwood. He made as if he was going to smother him but Seymour plunged the blade into the pillow stabing him through it and blood soaked through the pillow as the sharp blade went through the feathers and into the man's left eye. The pillow muffled the sound as much as possible.

Hardline, pounced on the other Mohawk inmate like a wildcat from the Cree woodlands and he took the bone crusher with his right hand while the left covered the mouth of the rival gang member. He drove one knee down into his balls and the other into his stomach to wind him. He stole his breath away as pain shot through the young gang member's body and even against his hand covering his mouth only a slight squeak came out as Hardline brought the blade down into his windpipe. Without a word, the three inmates left the cell.

"You should probably know something else too...when you're better you're gonna have to deal with the Dead Beats again..." Stated Jean. "That thing in the bathroom and the two skins acting like they wanted no part of you? That was just a front and as probably part of a plan the Dead Beat's cooked up. The odds of them getting two guys of the same tribe as you and the same clan just sounds too weird to me to be coincidence. So I do want you to heal spiritually. The spirit needs it as much as the body. But when you are, be ready for war. Those Dead Beats will be coming for you when they heal up and i'm sure their friends will too."

"All right...I'm sure we go back on lockdown again as soon as they find those two..." He whispered to the Warrior OG. "But I know a way to get stronger shanks. Better than what the Dead Beats or the Clucks have."

Later, he discoverd that an inmate not far from him just a bed down was Onondaga. He had learned over the years not every man or woman of the Longhouse was trustworthy certainly not very Native one way or another of any tribe but he saw his 1823 tattoo and was glad to see a friendly face. Under their nations flag which had the Haudenosaunee flag with the wampum belt as a back drop, there was an image of an Ondondaga man wearing a Haudenosaunee headress with two feathers in it. There was black sillouttes around the head of the warrior which was inside the purple wampum belt and the black sillouttes were all people holding hands standing in a circle around the wampum and the man.

The tattoo read Onondaga Nation on top of the image of the male figure, the black sillouttes and the wampum belt and under that it said People Of The Hills. Redwood as a Kanienkehaka man was a person of the flint. Oneidas were people of the stone, Tuscaroras were people of the hemp, Senecas were people of the mountain.

He was about Paul's age perhaps a year or two older. "The Indian Chickens hit you, huh? Yeah they fucked you up, man...I got jumped myself. Six guys from the Viking Posse. I was shocked none of them were strapped. They jumped me and I put up as much of a fight as I could against those Nazi fucks. So I aint gonna judge ya on that. I got caught off guard too."

He advised Paul, "You're a lifer...a lot can happen between now and...eternity. We gotta watch out."

Neto

It was crazy to him knowing what he was about to do for his Onda. He was for all intents and purposes, going against Aztecas in Vice City. He was meeting with a carnal who ha been part of the Eagle Bay hunger strikes. He was a carnal from Varrio Pozo an area of South East Los Santos.. He was a fifty three year old with a full head of jet black hair and he stood about six feet tall but his handle bar mustache was graying. He was still in good shape but he could tell the man was still not used to being on the outside.

A crooked cop had been who had arrested him back in the 90's and put him in prison for murdering a member of a rival varrio. It was a vato from the Maravillos. He'd pulled up in a dark blue stallion one day intent on catching a vato from there off guard. He spotted a rival tatted up with khakis creased walking to the store and he aimed his .45 out of the window and fired of eight rounds striking the chavala with seven of them.

He had also once been a friend of a certain Onda dropout from his neighborhood who had snitched back in 2002. They had been business partners but this carnal had said in his autobiography that he had carried hom and he did not like that. At one point, there was a Chicana that had been a drug dealer that had paid both this carnal and him and she had said she didn't want to pay him. He hhad wanted to have her greenlit for it. This carnal had said no and got the other carnales to agree she was not to be touched. The thing that angered him also was that eventually this carnal had said he wouldn't support Spider anymore claiming he had carried him for years.

They'd tried to kill each other as cell mates and this was after the carnal's other room mate before him who was actually from Maravilloso and had joined Ond due to having heart, had OD'd and died. They had even tried to make up once but one day Spider told the carnal, "You chose a bitch over me."

"You sound lik a mayate!" Replied the carnal. The funny thing was, even though this carnal harbored no animosity towards blacks personall, behind bars it was an insult among Mexican Americans. The carnal had even written of being about to stab Spider in his book when Spider was in his cell drying off after a shower. His life had only been saved when a guard had noticed he was not where he had seen him last and asked where he was just as the rival Ondero was coming to stab him. When Spider, unaware that he had at the time been coming to get him, had replied that he was in his cell drying off and the guard started to go there to check on him, this had spooked the carnal.

It was true even that said "Carnal" was more respected at the time among La Onda than Spider was. He'd controlled four varrios in his time and had even more that paid him than that from other varrios. But when this compa had dropped out of the Mafia and turned snitch in 2002, when before it was mainly Spider who hated him despite the two keeping their beef between each other since politicking was an offense punishable by death, after he had dropped out not only was this carnal green lit but after reading his book, he had stated that he kew he was a piece of shit at the it was Spider that had respect from carnales because despite being in prison as long as his enemy, he had stayed true to Onda without dropping out,

Sure, he had gone wit the program that would imply he would stop gang banging activity to get out of SHU and yes he would be monitored but the carnales also knew it was better if he distanced himself from the gang activity for the time being and was on the main line in the long run. The fact that he was let out a year later was a gangster miracle.

There was two other men there since Fusca was not there at the moment. There was Manuel "El Poltro" Calderon, a forty year old carnal from Tahitian Gardens, the clique that was home to the founder of La Onda. They had about 2000 gang members in total. El Poltro was a carnal with deep brown skin and a shaved head and he had a black soul patch and a handle bar mustache. He wore a plain white t shirt and brown khakis. Around his neck was a silver chain.

He'd done time in Boilingbroke from 92 to 1998. He'd stayed out of prison until 2004 when he wet back for parole violation earning him another six years. He was also a validated member of Onda. He'd shot a Families member back in '92 following the LS Riots, specifically a member of Carson Avenue since not only had Tackle come from there but also Cueball and Scratch. He'd paralyzed the gang member from the waist down. He was tried as an adult at the age of 17 and sent to prison.

Lastly was a gang member named Angel "Tortuga" Zavala. He was a short but muscular Chicano of Rarámuri heritage his naturally thick black hair was shaved. He had always cut his hair this way since he was a teenager and people thought he looked like a turtle when his head was shaved. He was 5'7 and 155 lbs of muscle. He was twenty seven year old and he came from the 155th street Vagos. He had done five years for a hate crime where he had been caught spray painting a house and shooting at the house of an African American house. It was undetermined if he had done it due to his own views or simply because he was told to for his gang. He'd been arrested and charged with it as a teen too, vandalizing a museum that had promoted Afrocentric veiws including appropriation of the Olmecs. That was his first offense and he'd been incarcerated for a year as a teen and under the San Andrean hate crime law statute, had to do 400 hours of community service and pay a $5000 fine.

It was at age eighteen that he was arrested for doing it again. This got him seven years. When he got to the big house, the Families and Ballas both were yelling that the 155th street Vagos had no heart and only targeted innocents. He found one of the Ballas that had said this, a member of OCB and stabbed him in the heart in the bathroom. A gang member from Davis Neighborhood Failies Gang had been there and tried to attack him needing to back up his own cousin of another flag and while Tortuga did not kill him he did wound him slashing his throat which he survived.

Thi act of brutality had earned him a spot as a Pilli, and he was made a carnal not long after. They told him however that if he wanted to survive in this game to not be a crash dummy like he had been on the streets. They told him it was a marathon not a sprint and that he was a turtle not a rabbit. He took the advice and spent the rest of his time at Boilingbroke doing dirt by smuggling drugs and sending out wilas. He'd relly only killed four people his entire life. He'd stabbed a black drug dealer who was in the hat with them too who had compared La Raza to roaches. In silence, after doing 100 sit ups and 100 push ups, he snuck up behind the cell soldier and snapped his neck.

The two people besides the Baller and the cell soldier he'd killed, on the streets were from rival varrios. Just before his incarceration, he had snatched a 70th street Vago off the street in his own hood and threw him in the trunk of his car despite the gunshots from the rival varrio chasing him back. He had taken him to Banning before putting six rounds from a M93R into the man's head. A year before this, his homeboys drove him to the Taco Flats neighborhood another rival and he leaned out with a 20 gauge and blew the head off of a 20 year old gang member in front of five of his homeboys and four of his homegirls.

"What are we doing out here?" Demanded Neto.

"Vice City. We got mas problemas down there," Stated Spider.

"Such as?"

"Ever hear of Tito Domiguez? He was a vato from LS but he ended up moving to Vice City. He started running things down there…." Explained Tortuga. "The early 2000's weren't so bad at first. Yeah we had to fight the Dominicans, Cubans and Puerto Ricans but so what? That's like Liberty City. But it's this Haitian crew…."

"You're telling me vatos down there can't handle a bunch of cat eaters?"

"We're telling you that Marabunta and Vagos were doing fine out there and pushed the line against the Haitians. Problem is just cause Aztecas out there con't like Marabunta, same as out here, they helped the fuckin Haitians take Vago neighborhoods. So the Haitians give them a break," Explained El Poltro.

"Are you saying it's as bad as New Arcadia down there?"

"Chale. Not that bad. But for a city with the demographics it has as opposed to New Arcadia? It could be way better. Right now…vatos representing Los Vagos and Marabunta are medium in terms of strength and neighborhoods when we should be large and strong. They got Haitians attacking them every day so more varrios are at risk of falling. The Aztecas down there they gotta get spanked homes….and you being Azteca..we thought you should,"

"I'm not the only vato representing VLA to be made…." Neto stated. "No but you're the only one on the outside. You can make an example of those Aztecas out there. Show them that the real Aztecas in the west where it matters, aint having that shit. That they're not real Aztecas, entiendes?"

Neto sighed. "If they did side with Haitians over their own that is pretty fucked up….I don't even think I've ever seen a Cuca stoop that low. I've seen those Salvadoran vatos hate Mexicanos as much as mayates but they'd at least try and fight us both before siding with them. Aztecas in Vice? If that's what they're like they shouldn't exist."

"I been saying this shit too…." Tortuga stated. "Aztecas in the south, I don't know what it is but they're a joke, mano. And that's not good news cause in states like Virginia, where Marabunta acts the worst they could have been good soldados to enforce our national program too along with west coast Mareros but instead they're more into hustling than anything else. I wouldn't trust them in Waston either."

"Great…so we got Aztecas in name only in a bunch of eastern cities but right now it's Vice we're focusing on? Why them and not other cities?"

"That's not the part that's gonna interest you the most, ese…" Stated El Poltro. "When the shit was going down, the Haitians turned to the Cubans to get them more firepower and that gave them an upper hand down there. But when Vagos down there tried to turn to the Madrazo cartel in the start….they decided to work with the Haitians instead. They left their own gente to dry. Which I could understand if it was just business that's how cartels roll but there's no reason for them to have seen Haitianos as a bigger money maker than us. Fuck that…."

"You interested now?" Asked Spider. "Yeah. Any damage done to the Madrazos is good for me. So I get to fuck up three enemies at once? Technically, I don't know any Haitians but if they're giving the south side problems and they're making it hard to even get inroads…I don't got a choice."

While Neto had never personally met a Haitian, what he had heard of them he didn't like. He knew about their deal with Dominicans but the fucked up thing was some of them had started to migrate to Mexico especially Tijajuana and they had refused to work and demanded black schools. A lot of gente down there found this problematic especially when comparing what Haiti looked like as a nation as opposed to the Dominican republic. Mexico was poor too but it could always get worse especially with more of them there.

The funny thing was that ther was some pieces of shit in the streets of TJ saying that even homeless Mexicans have it "Too good" and that they'd rather help a Haitian than their own gente. Today was the day to punish disloyalty as much of it as possible.

"Before you go...one more thing you should know..." El Poltro said. "Your boy, Oso? Vato that got life up in Canada? He's out."

"What?"

"Out of La Onda."

"But the only way out is death. Carnales told me what was up. about that. When I was in the pinta in Arizonas it was the same deal when we had original carnales that were inside in Arizona. That if I was to join either this shit is por vida...so what are you saying you green lit him?"

"No mames, wey. It aint like that..." Tortuga said. "But he's fuckin done. What can he do over there? Our connections across the border there aint like with Tijuana, man. Not as much Raza up there and Los Indios there got their own cliquas and their own cities. It's a different ball game. If we ever get a foothold up there it's gotta start slow. But he's locked up in a pinta we don't really got any boys at."

"He didn't snitch...he didn't betray us. He got a death row sentence putting in work for us..."

"We're not saying the kid is green lit, man! But it doesn't make sense to say he's a carnal up there when I don't have anybody up there that can corespond with him. Somebody over there to get a willa to him? We can discuss it some more but we talked to other carnales. They took away his mailing privileges anyway. He's allowed to order shit through catalogues if he wants but he can't recieve mail. There's vatos that are cool with the Warriors up there but they're in Wentario and a lot of them fools can't visit prisons and they don't know the same Warriors he's locked up with to even find out how to get hold of him."

"They're keeping him from getting mail? That aint right..."

"Yeah plus there's not even south siders in there that we know of. Most carnales we know about that moved up north are in eastern cities, pues. So he can't even start his own mesa in there..." Tortuga said. "The homeboys looked out for him best they could when he was in the state pen but once he left the country it was outta our hands. The homeboy's not gonna snitch and it's not like if he tried it would do him any good. He's stuck like a truck. He's doing life. He aint never getting outta Canada."

"Look...vatos like you who blessed me as a carnal told me that if i ever turned my back on Onda, it would be death. Well I got power as a Pilli too now. If anybody orders a green light on Oso, I'm killing them. I don't care what prison they're at. I'm on the streets too and I didn't even do time in this state and la jura aint getting me. I'm too sly for that shit but my word has power too. So none of you lays a hair on him..."

"We were already saying we wouldn't, cabron. Calm down before we change our mind. Oso is outta mind and outta sight. We're calling him a dropout. He may not have wanted to drop out but shit went that way. Sometimes you don't always wanna drop out que no? But we aint gonna see him again."

That thought, to Neto was very sad. "So you ready to handle business?" Asked El Poltro.

48 Hours Later

He had taken a train out. He knew where his gear would be and he knew where he needed to go even. There was a deal going down that the Vagos in Vice City had eyes on. It was the Madrazo cartel supplying kilos of white to both the Aztecas and the Haitians.

Neto chuckled as he got his arms around the PKM that had been left behind a Cerveza Barracho billboard overlooking Ocean Beach. The ammo for it was parked in a dark violet Washington. He got in and began to drive. He wished he had the time to stay and enjoy the sights, fuck some hynas, get a few drinks, party with the South Siders down here but he was a hitman and deniability was his friend and theirs in this case.

He was on his way to Little Haiti. He was not dressed in gang colors. He had only a white plain t shirt and khakis. He was headed to South Vice City. Where the majority of brown people were. Where the Cubans had the most control but all the various ethnicities that had any clout were fighting for every block. He looked at the note that had been left from the vatos out here. He read it out loud. "If you run out of ammo for that thing, there's a little something for you in the trunk."

As he drove and put the radio to Esperanto he chuckled. "So that's what this is too. They want to have a lone hitter come in and thin out the competition without putting any of their own homeboys at risk..."

He only agreed to it because one of the carnales that was running things now was paying 100 K for the job. He was told to wait for a car a dark blue Vepid Peyote that would be an Azteca gang car he was to tail. He followed them but kept his distance. He could hear them listening to Pitbull of all people on Wildstyle. Neto snorted to himself. He was listening to Bogota by La Payara. He wasn't always exposed to Colombian music when he was growing up. It was all right. It was better than Pitbull.

He followed until they arrived at the Vice City junkyard in Little Haiti. "Chingada...I fuckin knew it..." He said. He parked outside the junkyard and he saw some gear that was intended for him to climb the side of the sign that advertised Weazel News. He luckily had training in the military for such a thing though it would not be easy doing so without being seen and with the PKM and ammo to boot It took him some time but alas he managed to get up there. He spotted the two Aztecas getting out and meeting up with two well dressed Mexican me both wearing lapel suits. In addition to them, was a helicopter a Maverick parked in the lot. There was also six gang members of Afro Carribbean ancestry. He had a fifty round belt to feed into this and a backup 100, 200 and 250 round ammunition box.

He couldn't hear entirely what was being said. He pulled out his knife and snorted crystal. He sniffed waiting for it to go down and for the shit to kick in. He stayed low but positioned himself aiming down at the coalition of Aztecas, Madrazo goons and the Zoe Haitian way to say Haitian Death Gods.

He was watching and listening as the Madrazos spoke. Many Sicarios from Sinaloa didn't speak English but these two did. One of the men, was man with a mole under his hairline on the right temple. "I don't think, given the climate, a party is a good idea my friends...successful business or not."

"Mwen pa konprann," The Ghede gang member said. ( I don't understand)

He took a drag on the cigarette in his mouth. "Gen anpil pwofi yo. The boys have worked hard. Even Escobar had lavish parties when work was done and it was time to play."

"Yes but we could all be doing that in Mexico. My patron has a large mansion with a lot of alcohol, yayo and women. You're both more than welcome to join us."

"A move across the border would raise red flags, dog..." Stated one of the Aztecas a man in a dark blue do-rag with sunglasses. "If we're gonna turn up it might as well be here."

"You made this business more possible working with us, frè..." Stated the Haitian who was a dark skinned black male wearing a white designer sweatshirt and black stonewashed jeans. "We want to show you good time. You backed us and our enemies are running scared."

"It's true..." The other Madrazo sicario said. "Your operation is very organized. Haitians running the north and east parts of the city, Latinos got the south but all fighting over it. But are you sure we can have a party without alerting anybody?"

"I promise..." The Haitian said. "Everything's taken care of. You know the Ocean Beach Hotel? We rented the entire top floor. Access to the pool. I understand laying low. But every now and then, it's about celebration. We got food drinks, girls, and party favors..."

Neto sneered. He now knew everything he needed to. "Guess I'm going to Ocean Beach..." He began to fire and with a twenty five round burst he managed to hit and kill three Haitians. He mowed down the two Aztecas as well. He raked the rounds raining hell down on the helpless rivals who though armed, were sitting ducks. Neto picked off all but one, the Sicario with the mole.

He rappeled down the sign into the junkyard as the Sicario was trying to get out of there starting up the Maverick. Neto stepped over the brains of the Haitian gangster in the designer clothes. The man's top of his head had been taken off and his heart was exposed as the powerful rounds had gone through him.

To his left was a deceased Azteca with his large intestine hanging out of his entrance wound. The other had his balls blown out. The other Haitians and the Aztecas that had already been waiting there were scattered.

Neto stood in front of the chopper as the blades started to wind up. He aimed and said, "I bet you don't get two feet off the ground. Want to try me?"

"Hijo de puta! You're dead! Your family is dead!"

"I have no family..." Neto said. "And i have people like you to thank for that..."

He recognized Neto. "Santa Muerte...Que quieres?"

"I want a ride. To the Ocean Beach Hotel," He took away the sicario's backup piece in his sock, a .22 plus his 9mm Beretta in his belt in addition to the MP5 he had fired at him to try and defend himself.

He aimed at him and got in. "You're gonna fly me over by that billboard so that I can grab my extra ammo..."

He had a hand on the Sicario's wallet. He found a picture of the man's wife and children. "Stupid son of a bitch. Fuckin indio capesino...you were empty on ammo and you bluffed with me? I could have taken your head off!"

"But you didn't."

"Why should I fly to to the billboard? You're empty. You threw my guns out, sure but you need me to fly this thing. You don't have any ammo either."

Neto got on his cell phone. The Sicario tried to get outside of the chopper but Neto punched him in the nose and then pulled him back inside and dialed a number. "Jose? Yeah. I know we gotta hit them but you gotta make a detour homes. I got an address for you to stop by..." He told it to him. "This fucker's name is Rene Pineda."

Jose of course had no idea what he was talking about. "Jefe what are you talking about? I thought you were in Vice City?"

"Yeah...everybody inside...I don't give a fuck. Yeah...there's kids. So what? You're still getting paid aint ya?"

"All right! Fine! I'll fly. Just leave my family alone!"

'"Jose...I need you to go there and wait. Whether or not you get the green light depends on if this cabron cooperates. I'll call you back."

"You're a piece of shit, you know that?" Declared the sicario as he took them up in the air. As he flew him by to get his ammo, Neto collected it. "Yeah, you're gonna have to be more specific than that, bitch."

"I know what happened to you and your family. I don't condone it. But Madrazp is the patron. I wasn't a part of it."

"So?"

"So how can you do this shit to somebody else's family when you know exactly what that feels like?!"

"Because they're not my family. And I already lost mine. The worst day i ever had already happened. is the worst days of my life already happened. Martin is not a true patron. You should know that. The true patron of Sinaloa is Poncho Vasquez. Not that puto."

"We'll see who the puto is when Martin has you and all of your dogs in Rancho piked in front of his home."

"Which one? The one that got pulled down by a truck like a rip from an 80's flick? Or the ranch that his wife lives in? Tu sabes...it's like he doesn't understand the way shit works. You can't have an affair on your woman if you can't get it up. You want to have extra marital affairs el chorizo has to be in overdrive not sleep mode. Then again I saw what Patricia looks like. Maybe i don't blame him on that one, eh..."

"Keep talking, perro. See how brave you are. There's Zoe Ghede's, Aztecas and more of our sicarios at this party. I don't expect you to make it out alive. So evn if I die today, so will you. You have no chance."

Neto laughed. "That's a lot of faith in them being able to kill me before I kill them. You must not know me very well, ese."

As they were soon just three miles out from the hotel roof party he stated, "So why would you gun down fellow Aztecas? Isn't there rules against that?"

"These outta state lames are the ones that violated the rules and so did you."

"We don't care about your petty gang beefs. The color that matters to us is green."

"Yeah? If that was true you should have played both sides, pendejo. That's what the Madrazos did in Los Santos for God knows how long. It's what Poncho Vasquez was doing when he ran shit and it's what the Tijuana cartel did in the days they were running things and the Colombians before that. My point is, yeah you didn't let nationalism get in the way but Zoe Ghede, powerful as they are in Vice City and maybe a few more southern cities, are not the horse you want to bet on. Especially when in these cartel wars, you got sides chosen. Los Aztecas y Los Vagos tend to ally with Madrazo and the home base in Sinaloa. Marabunta outside the South West usually sides with the Zeroes. So I could undersand why you might not have wanted to help them expand in Vice City but Vagos? It's just not acceptable."

"We still helped the Aztecas we are doing our duty! We still back one south side affiliated gang!"

"Yeah, I'm sure that's what you tell yourself to sleep at night. But Madrazo is making bad choices all around, homes."

"If you think Poncho Vasquez didn't think the same thing about Vagos, you got another thing coming, cabron! It was Vagos that tried to kill him at the airport in Guadalajara back in '93 and who did kill the cardinal."

He was referring to the gang 32nd street whose turf ran from 30th to 33rd street. They were also known as Varrio Osuna. They had bee hitmen for the Tijuana cartel and had had targeted Poncho Vasquez as well as a cardinal of the Catholic church. What ended up happening was a bullet richochet ended up killing one of their gang members. "That might be true, but you know what?It doesn't matter cause the TJ cartel is a thing of the past and the carnales are allies with Sinaloa now so somewhere along the line, probably before I ever got in the game, that shit got solved. And you might have a point about Poncho but it doesn't matter. Cause if he wants to come out of Liberty City and be the king own south again, there's gonna be some rule changes. He can keep on supplying those Haitian tintos with drugs but the second his boys start playin g favorites again that can get taken away."

The sicario laughed. "You think a bunch of Onda jailbirds can get to him? You tried once and it failed."

"Yeah, maybe not him personally unles we used hitters from varrios back home that might decide to throw in with Los Zeros. Besides, he may be too rich for some of us to touch but his sicarios, his mules, they still can end up in prison and nobody has he control of the streets from prison that we do. So if some of his men, and I aint talking about VIP cartel fuckers but if we're talking some favored sicarios, they would still end up in our pintas. And we can alwaysmake life hell for them up here. Arizona and New Austin is a wild card of state pens but in San Andreas and most other South Western states, paisas gotta do what we say. It aint the Northerners that hold the weight and generally paisas like me even...we might have problems with Vagos. We might start our own cliquas. But what we don't do, is side with the Rifas cause we know they hate us more. And the same rules apply to the cartel. They might run shit in every other aspects. They have more juice in the pens in Mxico than we do. But up here, it's us with the power."

They finally arrived at the Ocean Beach Hotel. He looked down at the pool through a pair of cans. There was sure enough, Zoe Ghede members partying with women as well as Aztecas doing the same thing. The Madrazo Sicarios had the prettiest women of the bunch. He readied the PKM. "¡Es hora de desinflar los Sicarios y sus bouchones!" He fired the newly loaded PKM which had 100 rounds in it. He was firing, indiscriminate and with no regard to who he hit. As far as he was concerned they all deserved to be shot. He chuckled with sick delight as an Azteca chola in a teal bikini with placas all up and down her body was hit in both of her large breasts and fell into the pool.

Next he hit a dark skinned woman of Haitian descent with her natural frizzy hair tied in a ponytail. She had been smiling and laughing moments before. Not so much after the rounds took off the lower part of her jaw. "Awww! And to think she was a sista not afraid to get her hair wet!" Neto shouted, mocking the pool party below as he proceeded to sweep across dropping five members of the Haitian street gang including one with a bootle of expensive gin in his hand. Neto fired at the Aztecas who were at the deep end of the pool hitting one in the collar bone and watched the blue green pool water turn red with his blood and his head snapped back as a round hit his spine.

Several Haitians as well as Mexican gang members that could not get to their guns were shredded by the rounds. In fact, he hit five Aztecas and three Zoe Ghede's. The Chicano, Haitian and Mexican gangsters all returned fire once they got to their guns. Several MP5's were fired up at the Maverick. At least ten of them hit Neto. "Keep them off me! If I die you die!" Screamed Pineda.

As the maverick whirled around facing the pool from the south east, and bursts of rounds from MP5's and AK's were sent at the helicopter, Neto remedied this by sweeping the powerful rounds across and mowing down at least ten more people. One man's right eye exploded out of the back of his skull as the 7.62 rounds hit it like a wasp stinging some idiot that had riled up their nest. This man, was a hairy man from Veracruz originally who had been sitting on a lawn chair with two women a southern blode belle and a Mexican and Cuban woman for his brunette leisure with the former having large breasts and the latter having a large butt. Neto had killed them and now him. By the time he reloaded, another ten lay dead either in the pool or next to it.

One Zoe Ghede lay dead, a man in a red floral shirt, notorious in the streets of Little Haiti, lay dead as his brains decorated the lettering saying not to run near the pool. The irony was he had died firing an AK over his shoulder while trying to retreat. A couple of shirtless Aztecas who were swimming only minutes were sent back in to the pool. One of them was overweight by about 50 lbs and when Neto hit the fatter one, his intestines as well as his stomach were exposed and floating in the water. "¡Dicen que no debes nadar durante media hora antes de nadar! Puedes agradecerme más tarde, compa. ¡Disfruta de la piscina!"

(They say you're not supposed to swim for half an hour before swimming! You can thank me later, compa. Enjoy the pool!)

"All right! Take me down I still see some stragglers in there. Or better yet, just take me low enough to jump. Circle the block a few times, homes. And remember, I can use the phones of any one of these cuerpos to have your familia killed if you try and leave me, cabron!"

Rene lowered him and Neto yelled, "Cannonball!" He tossed his PKM down to the ground and it landed on a few bodies huddled over each other. What remained of the Madrazo Sicarios, Zoe Ghede, and the Aztecas, fired at him but he dove out the other side of the chopper yelling, "Cannonball!"

He jumped down and they fired at him but he landed with a big splash. Ten Haitians, four Aztecas and three Madrazo Sicarios fired into the pool. It seemed somehow they did not understand physics. Because of all the blood from their deceased friends, it was harder to see the ex soldier. Just then he popped up. "Marco!" He pulled a Haitian gangster who was shirtless standing six feet and had wild curly hair and very dark skin looking fresh out of Africa,and had Little Haiti tatted on his stomach, was pulled under. Neto pulled him to the bottom. He proceeded to plug the man's nose and cover his mouth with his other hand while Neto held his breath.

Before long, the black gangster had drowned. Within 45 seconds, in fact. Neto would be able to hold his breath for maybe another minute or two. He pushed the gangster's body to the surface knowing that while dead men did float drown victims did not initially. As the body surfaced amidst a river of blood, they fired thinking it was Neto at first and more rounds cut their friend into shreds. This was what he was counting on. He grabbed another, this time a Sinaloa cartel Sicario and pulled him. He broke this man's neck under water and then proceeded to do the same thing. With all the dead bodies in the pool at the bottom, he was able to hide through all the blood.

He came up finally, throwing himself back out of the pool. The gangsters had taken several more tries at shooting the chopper down and he could see it was smoking so it wouldn't last too much longer as it had taken damage. Neto saw a knife nearby from a dropped room service cart and he grabbed it and threw it at a Ghede carrying an AK-47 just as he was reloading. Neto hit him in the throat and the others went around the dying Haitian to shoot at him.

Neto grabbed his PKM and began to fire at the rest of them striking the remaining gang members down but not before taking seven rounds from an AK himself and he fell over feeling the pain of the blunt force and waited for it to Azteca with four rounds in his gut dying slowly was on his right and a sicario with five in his back was to his left. Neto, covered in water and in blood said, "How you doing companeros? I don't know about you but I just feel like a real man, tu sabes? The kind of man who loves his ruca EVERY day of the month."

"You're...you're fuckin..S... Santa Muerte bro...why the fuck are you k...killing us...?" Demanded the dying Azteca as blood poured from his mouth as much as his bullet wounds. "

"You backed the wrong horse. You helped these small time shits..." He said referring to the Ghede's. "Over your own gente. Por que? Aren't you down for the south?"

"That's San Andrean...politics...out here we're just...ourselves...lots of barrios...were around before Onda, man...!"

"Yeah but VLA aint one of em. We started in the 60's. Anybody that tells you different is full of shit. I'm not even from the same country and I know more about it than you. Do you see the problem there And if you out of state DICK RIDERS are going to snub San An politics then stop representing San Andrean cliquas. That's puto shit. You're like the Ballas in Liberty City."

"We go where the money is...the Ghede's...have the most control out of any gang!" Declared the dying sicario. "It was just business...and don't make it a race thing. If Aztecas and Sinaloa are working together with the Ghede's...then we're both Mexican connects to each other...you Vagos are bad for business...same with Marabunta..."

"Yeah...and you sicarios you're just regular school boys. You say they run the cit but it's the north and the east. They rely on Cuban, Dominican and Mexican drug connections in the South side of the city. If Aztecas, Marabunta and Vagos banded together here the way it goes in the pinta you could have at least been a sizeable force against the Cubans Dominicans and Puerto Ricans and the Haitians but instead you divided and conquered from within...putos."

He then got up and began to drag the Azteca 's left leg with his leg hand and the sicario with the right. "You saw that game we were playing earlier right? Marco Polo? I'm bored with it. Now we're gonna play dead man's bluff. And sabes que? I don't bluff...this aint poker..." With that, he tossed the two into the pool. They were not long for the world as it was. "Hey, you're pretty good at this!" He beamed at the two of them. Just then, two Haitians emerged firing upon him both with MP5's. They hit his PKM and ruined it and hit him with a few rounds in the had to reload and Neto had grabbed two pistols off of two dead gang members. As the wounded Haitians reloaded and he noticed they were both women, one wearing a black bikini with dread locks and the other had a blondish weave and had not gone in the pool and wore a dark blue bikini, one yelled, "Santa Muerte! What ya here fi? Ya Mexicanos would have never become a free country without da Haitian revolution for inspiration!"

Neto laughed at that. "The US revolution had more impact than that, stupid!"

He fired striking both of them in the chest and then one in the collar bone and the other in the face. He ran onto the diving board as the Maverick lowered and he jumped off of it just as more Haitians arrived and fired at him. He propelled into the chopper and it lifted off. They began to fly out of there. "Jesus christo, pues...your name shouldn't be death! It should be Apocalypse!"

Before long, the crack of automatic rounds hit the chopper again and Neto realized that the Zoe Ghede had more gang members following him. In a chopper. There was a Maverick behind them and three Haitians with AK-47's were firing into it. Neto saw the parachute. Itwas now or never. He jumped from the chopper leaving the PKM inside. The 90 rounds hit the pilot and the smoking choppr was now on fire as it hurtled back to the earth and the Haitians tried to reload as fast as they could so they could shoot Neto down before he landed as he already pulled the chute.

"IF IT MAKES THINGS BETTER, I NEVER ACTUALLY HAD ANYBODY OUTSIDE YOUR HOUSE!" Neto shouted back. He heard the deafening explosion as the chopper hit the streets below and took four more cars with it. He valued his own ass more so the deaths of the civilians were of no concern. He hoped no kids died but there was no time to find out.

Mai

She approached the Azteca house in Strawberry. She was met with a face full of guns from dark blue clad cholos and cholas. "The fuck you want, puta? You from the Psychos or what?" Demanded a chola with a left stud nose piercing who was a bit on the heavier side nursing two Berettas aimed at Mai's forehead. Mai, with her own skill as the Lotus, could easily kill several of them or disarm them but she was looking at eight guns varying from Handguns to Shotguns. IAA agent or not she wouldn't be able to take all of them out before being riddled with bullets and even with body armor which she had, she would be faceless if not headless since she clocked three shotguns.

"Nah, mija I think this bitch is a jura..." Stated an overweight Azteca with lighter skin than Mai and a brown goatee a midnight blue t shirt and a black hat on backwards and Loc Down shades. "She looks too fuckin bourgouise to be a Lady Psycho. Like she grew up in the suburbs or some shit."

"Neither. I'm a Hip Hop fan and I just wanted a private audience with Lil Maniaco."

"A chinita that listens to Maniaco? I call bullshit. Maniaco can barely get heard by morenos," Stated a chola that was skinny wearing a blue, teal and black striped midriff top and black jeans with turquoise high tops, her light brown hair tied in a high ponytail and her belly piercing a sapphire that Mai had to admit she found sexy. Mai had learned from context of past conversations with Neto that while Moreno could generally mean any dark skinned person even somebody like himself, in many contexts it referred to blacks. This was considered a more polite term to use than Negro, mayate, tinto llanta, chanate,or terms of that nature.

"You shouldn't assume people don't listen to Chicano rap..." Mai said reaching in her front pocket. "Relax. You got me. I'm just reaching forthis..." She said pulling out and lighting a joint. "I get that it has less mainstream appeal. And it does talk about gang banging and the ghetto a lot. But so what? A lot of black guys talked about that before Hip Hop was famous. It's got appeals to it. As much as I find guys like Brownside and Conejo interesting to listen to they do mostly talk about gang banging. Somebody like Maniaco raps about other stuff too. If Latinos are gonna break into the mainstream they need someboy like Maniaco..."

"True he's better than that guera puta, Snow..." By Snow they meant Snow Tha Product and while she was not white, the term was being used not in reference to her race but rather her light skin as she was on the lighter spectrum of brown skin. "But hey if you're a fan of the homeboy, name four of his songs," Stated the fat cholo.

"Letter To Madd Dogg, which is probably my favorite. Then let's see...I like Little Drummer Kid, Who Killed 2pac, and You Don't Wanna Know Who You're Fuckin With."

"Orale...we'll let you in but if he says you gotta leave then you bounce your skinny ass outta here, entiendes?"

"No problemo, gordo..." Mai said with a smirk and the guy scowled but this earned a laugh from a few of the cholas and one of them said, "Calmate papi..." Rubbing a hand across his beer gut. They told Maniaco what was up in Spanish. The young gang member had a white t shirt on and baggy blue jeans and a Pounders cap on backwards. "Who are you? So you're a fan eh? Como te llamas?"

"Diana Li," She then, one of the cholos that was mixing teh sounds in the studio came out with a Glock 17 raised at her. "Nah this bitch is lying, dog. That's what's her fuckin name ese! Mai Thu from the Da Nang Boyz!" The Azteas raised their guns again. "I know you know what went down in the Flats so they must have sent you here to set me up, huh. They must have read about my ad for a video girls. Sneaky bitches But you aint laying me out in my own crib fuck that So gimme one reaon I shouldn't have the homeboys wrap your ass up in plastic?"

"What ad? What are you talking about? I've been outta town. Yeah I know what happened there but just from the news. And look, yeah my dad was a founder back in the day but he dropped his flag a long time ago and yeah I made contacts out there but that was just so I could operate down there. I'm in the game too. You can ask Martin Madrazo about me. Or Trevor Phillips. Or Simeon Yeterian. Or Lester Crest. Me and Santa Muerte did a lot of jobs together. We lived together too."

"Yeah, I heard about that..." Stated Maniaco aiming his own piece at her. "And he wouldn't really say why he wanted to kill you next time he sees you. Just that he wants to. Makes me wonder what the fuck you did. Can't be jura cause if you were he'd have been put a green light out on you."

"No, I'm not a cop/ The truth is, he found out what you just said. About my past. I didn't remember a lot about it. I was just a kid when we lived in Cypress Flats. I honestly thought I only ever lived in South Yankton. But he felt I should have told him given the people he's at war with," Mai knew the best lies always had some truth about them.

"So what did you want to talk to me about?"

"I worry about him. And i just wondered if you can keep an eye on him. Just to make sure nothing bad happen to him. He won't talk to me or let me anywhere near him."

"Yehah, right what the fuck kinda shit is that? If you know who he's with and who he is then fucking him over is a bad idea. You got some nerve coming in my hood asking me that...you sure you aint wired up?"

"No...i'm not...and can we have this conversation in private?"

"I don't trust you and I don't know you."

"is there any way I can earn that trust?"

"Probably not."

"What about that ad you mentioned? If you want me to leave, fine I'm gone in two minutes. I just wondered cause you asked me."

"The homeboy wanted a chinita in his video que no? He likes to show he can get women from anywhere so he has all kinds of bitches in bikinis..." Stated a 19 year old male gang member. "Yeah but you're too old."

"Thirties is too old? I'm seasoned though and I got moves. I could show you...why don't I make you a deal...if I give you a lap dance, you and me have a private chat, you keep your friends quiet about what we just talked about and Neto doesn't have to know. I just want to make sure none of his enemies come after him when I'm not there to back him up. He may hate me but I don't hate him. I still see him as a brother. And...if you like what you see...I can be in your video. I might even know a few more 'chinitas' who'd be willing to. But that's another thing I'm Vietnamese American, Hmong specifically. We're not all Chinese."

"The fuck?" Maniaco stated. "If I wanted to get a lap dance I'd go to the Vanilla Unicorn."

"I may not be the thickest or curviest. I know my tits are on the smaller side but these?" She put a hand on his hand and the weapons that were on safety were readied to fire but she took his free hand and put it to her left breast. "Are all mine...plus I have friends that are a lot more the body type you like anyway..."

Lil Maniaco looked at the others then said, "Fuck it. You got 5 minutes. Take off your clothes, bitch!"

She did, stripping down to her bra and panties. They put the song How Do You Want It by 2pac on.

She gyrated in Maniaco's lap her butt and groid thrusting against his own crotch as she moved. Her perfume smelled like raspberries. The Aztecas whooped and hollered in cheer as she moved and she threw her black hair into the Chicano rapper's face as she moved backwards on him her back against his chest and her hips moving as she thrust in an upward humping motion, her athletic stomach folding as she made her suggestive thrusts before she turned around on him.

She moved her hands on his chest throwing her hair back as she moved on him, he unable to control the fact that he was getting stiff, arguably against his desire but that was not relevant it seemed. She moved his hands to her bra putting his hands on her cups. An Azteca poured some alcohol on her mostly bare butt cheeks. The wetness of it shocked her and she let out a gasp but she knew she had to play it cool so she began to shake her ass wet as it was soaked with alcohol.

She moved her hands to her butt moving the drops of alcohol to moisten up her body rubbing it along her slick yellowish brown back, her thick thighs, across her belly and up to her breasts. She let him drink out of her cleavage as his homies poured more on her and soon he did body shots drinking from her breasts, her belly, as he moved down her toned abdomen lapping at the tequila from her navel. which she hated to admit turned her on and soon he was licking down to the drops of booze at her panty line.

"Go china! Go china! Go china!" Chanted the Azteca males as she continued gyrating, feeling his fully erect member. She lowered herself through the fabric of her panties dry humping his manhood through his jeans. He started to pull her underwear but she stopped him. "Sorry papi..." She said with a confident smile. "You want to finish this party, we're gonna have to have a conversation in private..." She bit his left ear. "And you tell me whatever I ask..to be fair...I'll only ask one question this time...but if you want more of me...you'll have to help more..." She whispered.

He ordered the rest of them, "He, we'll be with you guys in a bit just kick back...we'll be in the studio..."

She pulled him in kissing him and they were alone. "All right..." She said. "Just tell me one thing...and we can have some more fun...I've never been with a Latin man before..."

"What you want to know?" He asked.

"Where is Neto?"

Lil Maniaco stared hard at her. She removed her bra to show her small but perky breasts that were standing up with arousal. "He went to Vice City. I don't know what for. That's all I know..."

"Now that wasn't so hard was it...?" She asked pushing him into the chair and started to unzip his pants. She took his manhood into her mouth, glad at least he was clean as she had sadly discovered was not always the case with all dudes. He looked at her ass sticking out in the thong as she blew him. He pulled her up to him and put her legs around his neck in the chair so that she was bent over backwards and upside down with his pipe in her mouth. Her eyes opened in shock but he said, "Can you handle it...?"

She responded, "Mmmm..." Her lips humming on his snipped member. "Good, girl...I'm gona put you in my next video...without question...put you next to all the other fine ass mami chulas..." With that, he began to eat her out as she sucked him off upside down. It was certainly a different experience for her but Mai considered herself open minded. She moaned against him as his tongue toyed at her. He wasn't bad at oral himself and as Mai slurped up his cock taking him from the head to his base she thought, I might just have a new asset...

Strawberry Avenue

Lil King sat with his mother. "Mama...I don't know why you want me to go back to college. I mean...wasn't 12 grades enough?"

She answered him, "I don't want you to end up like your brother. Or worse...like your father...or uncle...your dad was a good man but he was on the wrong side of the law. I always figured if I stayed on the straight and narrow he'd see this wasn't the way to live. And yet he stayed who he was. You think I don't know what you're up to with them fools on the streets? They're going nowhere. Lamar, Flash, Lil Banks. They're losers. And the wiomen are a bunch of hos. I raised you better than that. I tried to provide for you. Did you ever not eat? Not have clothes?"

"Yeah but those were church clothes, mama. A lot of them..."

"What you saying? You don't believe in Jesus no more boy?"

"I aint say all that. I'm just saying...it says whenever two or more gather in my name right? So church is the people. I don't see no reason to be going into some rickety old building to impress other people with who got the nicest clothes every week."

His mother rolled her eyes. "Like that aint what ya'll do on the corner? Come on, baby that's vanity. Dressing up for the lord is something different."

"But ma, didn't Jesus dress hella simple?"

"Look...I moved ya'll out here so you wouldn't be dragged down by what happened to your pop and uncle...I wish...he was still here..you know sometimes I blame myself for it all...it's like...what did I do...that he killed his own brother cause he claimed he loved me? You...were exposed to so much as a child back in New Arcadia...I'm sorry baby...but that's why I bust my ass out here. Your sister gets it. She's hitting the books in school. I aint saying you have to go to a university but you either need a job or to be in school. As crummy as this car is..." She was referring to the robin blue Greenwood. "I paid for it with my own money that I earned. Honestly. If you were to graduate college you'd be the first man in our family to do that. Don't you want to make us all proud?"

"Yeah but I aint got that kinda grades..."

"Lool I'm not stupid. I do want you out of the game. But since you got money from it...I need you to put it into some community college courses. Your father would have wanted it too..."

"I know mama...I miss him..." She hugged him. "I do too. But he loves you. And I do too."

"I love you too, mama. I'll try..."

Just then he heard a voice, "Q vo, Lil King! Remember me?!" A deep voice called out, Before he could answer, several shots rang out. Lil King was covered in his mother's blood and he looked at his own dark hands as he saw gray matter on his finger nails. He was afraid to look and his hands shook and he saw a slight glimpse in the rear view mirror of her matted bloody hair and her body slumped against the shattered window stained with her blood. He felt a bullet in his right shoulder and he tried to get out of the car. He tried to pull her out too but she was stuck with the seat belt. "MAMA!"

He was bleeding like crazy and he felt weak. He saw the bald headed cholo holding a smoking Beretta. "I told you I'd be coming for you little bitch!" He was about to fire at Lil King's head when suddenly, he turned his head possibly responding to yelling Lil King couldn't hear. He started firing at somebody he couldn't see. "Hey fuck you pinche chotas this shit aint your business!" He fired at two cops and Lil King heard more gunshots.

He saw the cholo had hit at least one of them, possibly wounding him and he was hit. Soon all he could see was blue sky as he looked up, muzzle flashes as the gunfight was not over and increasingly distant bangs. "Mama..." Cried Lil King as he held a hand over his bloody wound.

Meanwhile...

The fire alarm in the Chamberlain Hills Housing Projects had been pulled and tenants filed out. Culebra moved past the people filing to the streets as did the larger man on his right. He was not wearing his cut time. He slid on a black ski mask and Culebra put a black bandanna over his face. He had gotten the wila from Neto in Vice City to do this. Vincent Windstorm, on the other hand, had been in town visiting some of the Chumash, Tongva, and Mojave brothers he recruited into the Redroad MC. They had become aquainted somewhat. Culebra was not interested in joining the biker club but supported what they were doing and had been told of it by Neto. Vincent had insisted on coming along for this and since Culebra knew it was his friend that had his life ruined by the man they were after, it was only right.

Sure enough, the green clad overweight African American male donning a fedora came out. Culebra called his name. "Gerald!"

The man, initially suspecting it to be a fellow resident, the man of few words said, "Yo..."

Like a giant wild cat, Vincent sprang upon him, his switchblade stabbing him in the stomach. The blade hit him six times. "Call me Edud, bitch. This is for Redwood..." Growled Vincent. The man staggered falling over bleeding. He tried to make a noise but only a gurgle of blood came from his throat. Culebra then aimed his .357 Desert Eagle and fired a shot into the fat man's stomach and then as the man bled, soiling himself as the silenced Desert Eagle stole his breath he aimed into his face pulling the trigger and watched his skull split apart. He fired again and again until all that remained of the man's pieces of what had been his head was ripped pieces of his hat.

He reloaded and just the, a CGF soldier came around seeing the fallen drug dealer. "Yo they got G, man!" Culebra fired striking the man in the lower left arm and the two Indigenous men fled the complex into the street but after a yell from the wounded gangster they soon had CGF members on them however Vincent fired his Glock 17 over his shoulder finishing the wounded CGF member. They ducked behind a dark green Voodoo as four CGF gangsters fired upon them. "The cars just a block down. When I say go, we break for it."

"Should one of us stay and cover?" Asked Vincent as he fired two shots blindly. "Nada, wey..." Stated Culebra. "None of these fools can shoot..." He said as he fired back at the four rivals and three rounds lande on the hood almost catching Culebra in the right side of the head before he ducked down. "Except for that one..." He grudgingly admitted.

---

That's it for this chapter and yeah I ended it on a sad note. The shooting is based on the end of Gang Tapes but instead of Lil King dying his mother did and worse he was denied revenge since the LSPD shot the man who did it on the spot. I'm trying to decide where things will go next with him as he heals but he might go back to New Arcadia. Not sure what to do about his sister.

As far as Sway on the toilet with the hot dog and quran that's a reference to Bizzare from D12 in the song Fight Music. He says the funniest shit.

And while he didn't get much time, Kuma from chapter 25 is back. And as for Ivan and H Bomb what did you think of their discussions? There was going to be a conversation between Mai and Khoi too but next chapter I will do that. As for the lapdance Mai did with Lil Maniaco and the Aztecas yes there is going to be a lemon but I am postponing it. The lapdance was inspired by the lapdance in Domino where Kierra Knightley gave 18th street gang members a lap dance. But the alohol pouring was a bit well pornographic I mean pouring on the butt that is.

As fior Neto attacking the Ghede a gang i inyroduced in my Vice City fic, it is for the reasons he said in that because of the Zoe Pound in real life and the lack of help 18th street has been to Surenos and MS in Miami, they are really only a medium sized gang in terms of size and strength and the Zoe Pound is dominant. The fact that 18th street sided with the Haitians and even the Sinaloa cartel did, well thats a hard thing to overcome plus the Haitians were getting military grade weapons from the Cubans. Vice City was wrong. Cubans and Haitians don't figt like that. Not even the Mariletos sorry if i spelled that wrong but they were alliesfrom the start. It's Dominicans the Zoes fight.

And for that reason they don't get along with DDP. So Neto tried to even the score. As far as what he was doing with the dead bodies that's true i mean they sink initially but after about 12 hours they float.

Ok so Casper is visually inspired by that bitch rapper Compton Chapo or whatever his name is who's suppose to be from Tortilla Flats.

Glen Gould is the visual inspiration for Jean the Red Warriors Original. Hes a great actor. He was in such shows as Mohawk Girls and Blackstone and movies like Rhymes For Young Ghouls which he was in Devery Jacobs with in Mohawk Girls and Rhymes, the latter of which he played her father.

Jackie Torrance is visually based on the rapper Ms Toi

Envy is visually based on the pornstar Vanessa Blue

Lace is visually based on the pornstar Lacey Duvalle

Royal T is visually based on King Tee

Green Eyes is visually based on Angel Eyes. They will all be more prominent down the line.

Tracie Thorns who was Kim in Death Proof is the visual basis for Passion though in that movie she mostly wore camoflauge clothes that is green so there ya go. I figured you know I had male and female members of the CGF gang that I made up, Covenant Avenue Ballas and at least one for the South Side Ballas. The East Side Ballas I have yet to get to but I will but anyway there wasn't any female represenation for Family sets.

The thing is, I was initially gonna have every Davis Families OC including Sway and Bomb be from DNFG but I wanted to have them be 165th street instead my makeup name for the Nutty Blocc Crips. But thus far they were mostly the only ones I had so far.

This was indeed a big show down between the Families, the Ballas plus the Sons Of Polynesia auxiliaries and the Da Nang Boys so in short, the Most Hated made a stand and put up a fight but they lost this one. There was just no way they were going to triumph with the Families of three different cultural types, the Ballas.

The next chapter, Lamar, G Note and the other Families will have another plan to try and knock off some AV leadership in Blaine County since they did take out shit ton of enforcers. Also Mai willl do another lowrider mission i will try and encorporate more onlnine missions since i haven't for a while. Also Packie was wounded and that shootout is inspired by the final shootout in State Of Grace but instead of a cop shooting a bar full of gangsters it's a westie gangster shooting a bar full of cops.

With DNB and SOP being allies and all. And with Kuma being back do you think this means Ivan may have a new lead on finding Ivans father? Do you think the Families and Ballas are hitting the AV too much too fast and should slow down or keep on hitting them?

As for what H Bomb said to Ivan about if he had died, Sugar would love him forever, thats based on Body Of Lies when Hani Pasha says this to Ferris regarding Aisha his love interest. Since H Bomb like Hani Pasha is a moderate Muslim, I figured it's not a bad nod.

Also, let's just say one thing I can say about another way G Note will hit some more AV/MH1 members is in a symbolic way historically. If you're at all familiar with the history of slavery as well as WWII you will have surely heard of this tactic. I also forgot to mention but Queenie from Ballad is in this too she's actually G Note's cousin I just didn't introduce her this chapter. Same actress though Taraji P Henson.

Before I forget, Manitou Prison is based on Stony Mountain institutute. The schedule i had broken down for Paul's routine pretty much is the daily schedule there. You know whats crazy is lights out there is at 11pm. They really do have those Indigenous healing units they were talking about and as far as Paul/K:or the subject of if he has PTSD and needs it or not has been reoccuring with the thing Danny had talked to him about too. The figures Paul mentioned as being some of the first inmates were leaders of the Northwest Rebellion in Canada. If you don't know about that wat, look it up. He will also learn something infuriating about Tanaka, Paul will.

As for Paul's life sentence status and the fact that he would face death in the united states that is based on a murder case that happened in Washington involving Canadian citizens i already forgot the name of the case.

Anyway, until next time.