Author's Note: In the original "Capitol City" I had it where there was a minor character named Dwight, who was another driver with Freeman Cabs and I had a 'random encounter' mission where Artie had to help him get his cab back later on and that was the last we heard of him before I decided to discontinue the story. What happened with him having his severed head sent to Mr. Freeman was what would have eventually happened to him in the original story. I just needed to get that out of the way before I went any further.
Chapter 11: Bad Mother Trucker
"Oh c'mon Artie, you're playing this on the 'Easy' difficulty and I could still whoop your ass in my sleep!" Zeke shouted as he entered the guitar solo of Metallica's "Trapped under Ice," his fingers flying along the neck of his Gibson Flying V-shaped controller with the grace of a master.
Artie only offered a frustrated grunt as he struggled to depress the buttons on the controller's neck while at the same time attempting to fiddle with the whammy bar, hoping to score some much needed points and to get the virtual crowd to stop booing the Viking-like guitarist he played as.
It wasn't long before the song ended and 'PLAYER 1 ROCKS THE WORLD!' flashed across the screen.
"Oh fucking yes! Who's the man? Once again I've schooled your sorry ass," Zeke screamed falling to his knees and pumping his fists in the air like he had just won the Ultra Bowl. "Suck on that noob!" he said making the 'crotch chop' motion towards Artie.
"Heh, I might be a 'noob,' but just remember I'm capable of kicking ass in the real world!" Artie shot back removing his guitar controller and reaching down for a fresh slice of pizza.
It had been two days since he participated in that reality TV project for Solomon and was looking to unwind with the rare free time he was granted and in turn, business was slow in the bar so he decided to join Zeke for a round of games in his makeshift apartment, ordering pizza from the nearby Pizza This.
The storage room easily had to be the largest room in the entire building with enough space for storing the bar's supplies and enough room for Zeke to live comfortably, space for him to have a decent-sized television, couch, recliner, one-person bed and a desk with his laptop resting on it, as well as a small bathroom off to the side with a washer and dryer in it.
"Whatever you say," Zeke nonchalantly chuckled as he collapsed onto the couch and grabbed a breadstick, "Whine all you want, but admit it that there's something you can't kick my ass in for once. Just goes to what happens when you take on the master."
"Okay, I think I've had enough of 'Metal God' for now," Artie said going through some games lying out on the coffee table before him, "Why don't we play a round of 'Tools of Bloodshed.' I'm getting now so I can take down those Daktarian slimebags in the prison camp stage without losing a single life."
"Nah, I pulled an all-nighter with that last night," Zeke said grabbing another cartridge, "How about 'Full Blown Chaos?' I'm so close to taking down the Montesi family."
"As fun as it is pretending to take down some major crime family and blasting the pigs, that's only a one player game," Artie replied pulling out another game, "Besides, I like 'Sinners' Junction' better, especially those side missions where spoof 'Pigs,' doesn't get much better than that."
"Guess that rules out 'Epic' and 'Gold Road Retribution' then," Zeke added before grabbing another one, "How about 'Super Road Brawler Omega 3?'"
"Nah, I can never memorize all those buttons you've gotta push at once for the special moves," Artie grumbled before finding another cartridge in the stack, "How about 'R.S.W.A.: Unleashed?'" he suggested.
"Hey yeah," Zeke smiled, "I wanna try out that 'Flying Scotsman' I created on the 'Make-a-Player' option."
"That and I'm guessing you're looking to get a boner over that Princess Wildfyre and those fake tits of hers," Artie chuckled before taking another bite of his current slice.
Zeke froze in place with his finger pointed towards his friend, his mouth opened for a silent scream that never occurred.
"Yeah, I remember alright," Artie continued as his voice changed to mimic Zeke's tone, "Oh Princess Wildfyre, you're so fine! Oh what I would do to you if I could get you outta that tight pink outfit and see what's beneath those comets!"
Before Zeke could yell at the hitman his "Cowboys from Hell" ringtone sounded and he quickly wiped the grease off his fingers to answer the phone, "Iceman, what's up?" he asked before speaking again, "Yeah, he's here with me right now, why?"
Artie cocked an eyebrow to the bartender, knowing he was talking about him. "No, I don't think he has anything planned for the rest of the day, especially after the shit that weird metrosexual British director guy put him through," Zeke replied before looking back to him, "Yeah, I'll see to it he gets over there soon. Rock on brother," he said switching his phone off.
"What's up?" the hired gun asked, knowing without a doubt he was just whored out for another job spur of the moment.
"Iceman says he needs to see you right away. He's over at The Bloody Prick tattoo parlor in Stilsen, and he says to bring some firepower along," Zeke replied slipping his phone back into his pocket.
"Heh, looks like we're gonna be busting some heads then," Artie said rising to his feet, "Oh well, I could use another workout. Wonder who we're going after today, did he say?"
"Nope, but I'd stop flapping my gums and get my ass over there if I were you," Zeke replied switching off the GBOX 720 and flipping on the "Criminal Justice" TV series he liked to watch.
"Fine, talk to you later," Artie said making his way into the vacant bar and then made his way up to the apartment, where he decided to go heavier and grabbed the Desert Eagle, Benelli M4 Super 90 and the H&K MP5A3 from his makeshift cache in the closet. Knowing this would involve shooting; he strapped on the Kevlar vest and as an afterthought put on the kneepads and steel-toed shoes provided for him by Aunt Gracie. It had been another sunny day and he picked up a pair of blue-tinted sunglasses purchased from the Victim over in Blue Hook.
"I'll be there," he said looking into the mirror, quoting Jack Howitzer's most famous line from his 'Annihilator' series, before making his way outside and looking around for a vehicle to hijack.
The hired gun was sizing up a gunmetal gray Cavalcade when a familiar bright red cab pulled into view.
"Well whatta ya' know," Artie whispered to himself with an evil smirk as he saw a Borgnine taxi coming down the street, its driver a Dominican man in a bright orange sun hat who was bopping his head along to Lil' Wayne's "Got Money."
"Time for karma to be the bitch that it is," he whispered as the car slowed down and ran around the back, ripping the door open and grabbing the driver by the neck, slamming the door against his skull before pulling him out and tossing him to the concrete, adding an additional stomp before departing.
"Heh, Borgnine bitch," he said switching the radio from Total 101.9 to Rock of Rushmore 89.5, currently playing "Hole in the Sky" by Black Sabbath. The driver left a fanny pack on the dashboard that was carrying $650 and had an extra Desert Eagle with some spare clips, indeed a good find for the errand boy as he made his way over to the Stilsen district.
The Bloody Prick was a small building jammed between a Dip n' Lube auto parts store and the Dye Hard art supply store, its windows covered by designs and had heavy metal blaring from within, the kind of place he would expect to find Iceman hanging out.
"Hey Artie, c'mon in brother," Iceman called out, in the middle of having work done on his left shoulder by a heavily-tattooed bald guy with nearly every exposed inch of skin (minus his face) covered in ink. "We're almost finished here so take a seat until Ant here finishes up."
"Sure thing," the hired gun replied taking a seat behind them to see the tattoo artist filling in a green portion on what appeared to be a large dragon design.
"So what's on the agenda today?" Artie asked just as a young man walked in, wearing a black leather vest with spikes, tattered blue jeans, a red t-shirt with the anarchy symbol and a belt made of spent bullet casings, his dyed green hair worn in liberty spikes.
"Oh hey Sid," Iceman spoke to the young man, "Artie, this is Sid, one of my employees. He's gonna be helping us out today."
"Hey man," Sid said with a wave and the hired gun nodded.
"We're gonna be doing something for my brother, but he didn't say what. He just wants us to get over to his garage right away and said he'll give us the lowdown over there," the weapons dealer responded.
"Gotcha'," Artie nodded while observing some elaborate dragon designs along the wall.
He waited for a few more minutes before Ant spoke up, "Alright Iceman, gotcha done. Just don't let the air get to that for a few hours."
"Hell yeah, looks pretty badass as always. Better wrap it up then," the smuggler replied and his artist nodded, wrapping an ace bandage around his shoulder before paying Ant and the trio made their way outside.
"So does your own brother always keep you in the dark like that?" Artie asked as they made their way over to Iceman's Patriot.
"Sometimes Ratchet likes to surprise people," the smuggler replied, "even his own family members," he said switching the SUV on, immediately blasting "Dead to Rights" by DevilDriver and nearly deafening his friend in the process.
The trip took the trio over to Horgate and they were soon pulling up to a tan-colored building called 'Ratchet's Auto Repair and Customizations' with the front half of an '84 Stallion sticking out beneath the logo. Several cars were parked out front ranging from old beaters looking to be on their last legs to high end sports cars that almost looked brand spanking new.
"This is the place," Iceman said climbing out, making his way inside while Artie took the time to admire a bright red Pegassi '09 Infernus, thus earning him an elbow to the ribs from Sid.
"Watch it kid," Artie warned before making his way into the garage.
The spacious garage had six hydraulic lifts, all of which were occupied by cars being worked on by mechanics in soiled blue jumpers. It was towards the back of the room Iceman spotted a guy working on a Phobos VT, who at the same time bopped his head along with "Uncle Tom's Cabin" by Warrant playing on the nearby radio.
"Ratchet!" Iceman called out making his way over to his brother.
"Oh, hey!" the mechanic called back, turning down his radio as his older brother approached and reaching for a nearby cloth to wipe his hands.
Ratchet was roughly the same height as his brother, but was much leaner in build and had short, lighter auburn hair, currently covered by a turned around Statesmen baseball cap. He also had a distinctive skull and crossbones-style tattoo on his left forearm, but with the crossed bones replaced by wrenches.
"Artie, Sid, this is my brother Ratchet," Iceman said motioning to his friends, "Bro' these are some good guys who are gonna be helping out today with that job you mentioned."
"Oh yeah that," Ratchet said motioning for the three men to follow him into the nearby break room, where three more guys in soiled blue jumpers waited. Locking the door behind them the mechanic made his way to a large round table where he took a seat and pulled out a map.
"Alright here's the scoop, according to one of my sources those trust fund baby Preps are expecting a shipment of high-performance sports cars to come in from Union City via the Arness Expressway over in Roosevelt Hills-" Ratchet began before Artie cut in.
"Wait a minute, I thought this entire city was under lockdown after what happened over at Churchill International," the errand boy said cocking an eyebrow.
"Like the saying goes 'money talks and bullshit walks,' these Prep losers have parents rolling around in money. I doubt even a federal blockade would be safe when they're throwing unlimited funds at the apes standing guard," Ratchet replied before returning his attention to the map, "Anyways, the shipment is expected to be coming in via the Arness Expressway and knowing them, they're no doubt gonna have some kind of security escort. I need you guys to take out the security detail and get the shipment over here pronto, and I also need the cars undamaged so don't get too wild out there."
"What do you plan on doing with the cars once we get them here?" Iceman asked.
"Let's just say Boomer has his own ideas for them," Ratchet smirked towards his brother, referring to a mutual friend they shared who happened to be an expert on all things explosive.
"Gotcha, so how much are you paying for this job?" the smuggler inquired.
"Ten thousand dollars for each of you," Ratchet replied.
"Well what are we sitting around waiting for? Let's get to it," said one of the mechanics, a guy identified as 'Glenn.'
The six men rose to their feet and made their way outside, Iceman and Sid climbing into his Patriot, while Artie and the three mechanics climbed into a waiting Cavalcade FXT, the errand boy taking the wheel.
"You'd better not fuck this up. I got three kids back home to feed," Glenn said switching the truck's radio Rock of Rushmore 89.5, playing "Stranglehold" by Ted Nugent.
"Don't worry, I don't plan on it," Artie replied as he pulled out and began following after the silver Patriot.
"Well if you were brought in by Iceman then you must know your way around something," one of the mechanics from the back spoke up gathering the ammo for his FN P90, "He's pretty good at getting guys who have their shit together. He hasn't let us down yet."
Aside from the submachine gun, the other mechanic in the backseat was making a last minute inspection of a Ruger AC556F assault rifle, while Glenn had packed a Russian-made Saiga-12 combat shotgun. For a couple of grease monkeys they were packing heavy heat and he was left to wonder if these guys were hired guns on the side just like him. As long as they knew what they were doing that would be all that mattered he thought as he followed Iceman down another highway and towards an off ramp leading to Roosevelt Hills.
Gone was the urban sprawl and Artie found himself surrounded by vast fields of miscellaneous farmland, evergreen forests and quaint hamlets in the distance, including a few 'hole in the wall' dive bars, log cabins and a few farms.
"Alright kid, we're coming up on the Arness Expressway so keep your eyes open," Glenn ordered readying the Saiga-12 and scanning every winding turn the truck made, his trigger finger so itchy he jumped as they passed a harmless-looking farmer on a tractor.
Artie felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and turned the radio down before reaching for it, seeing that it was Iceman.
"Artie, get your ass ready to fight. I see the shipment and it's being escorted by the fucking Whiteskins!" the weapons dealer shouted over his phone just before gunshots rang out.
"Get ready guys. We're there!" Artie shouted speeding up to find Iceman's Patriot charging head on towards a Phantom pulling a trailer full of luxury sports cars, being escorted by two black Patriots and several bikers on Hellfury choppers, all of them opening fire upon the incoming smuggler and his associate.
The mechanic in the back armed with the FN P90 stuck himself out the window and opened fire, only to take a barrage of Uzi rounds to the chest and go clattering to the concrete.
"Motherfucker!" Glenn shouted, "Stop the fucking truck now!" he screamed opening his door before Artie could bring the Cavalcade FXT to a full stop. Like a man possessed the mechanic leapt out and fired away with the semi-automatic shotgun, managing to catch one of the bikers and send the man flying, his unmanned Hellfury speeding off a nearby hill and clattering down the rocky ledge.
Artie drew the MP5A3 and took cover behind his opened door, firing a barrage at another biker and striking his front tire, sending the man tumbling forward and being crushed by his own motorcycle.
Iceman and Sid remained inside the Patriot and crushed a biker who had stopped to open fire and then rammed head on into an enemy SUV that had skidded to a halt, sandwiching a Whiteskin who hadn't been fast enough to escape.
Slamming on the brakes, Iceman and Sid both jumped out of the vehicle guns blazing, the gun runner armed with an AKM and his employee wielding an H&K G36. Their combined force cut down the occupants of the first rival Patriot in one fell swoop, but the bikers in the other SUV had been more persistent and forced the duo to take cover behind their own vehicle.
Artie meanwhile had no time to reload after the MP5A3's clip ran dry and he was forced to withdraw his Benelli, firing a blast that caught a bulky man in his lower abdomen and sent him tumbling to the tarmac with a sack of potatoes. Readjusting his sights he fired upon a tall muscular man and caught the man in his kneecap, yet somehow the stubborn biker managed to keep firing his Uzi until he was dropped by a salvo from the other mechanic's Ruger.
"Quick, get the truck!" Glenn called out dropping two more bikers with repeated blasts from his Saiga-12, only to be cut down by a flurry of automatic rounds from an RPK light machinegun carried by the Phantom's passenger.
"Bastard!" the remaining mechanic shouted as he fired wildly with the Ruger, until the rifle jammed and he too would be cut down by a barrage to the chest.
Artie was forced to leap over the guard railing as the RPK's rounds shredded through the pickup truck and it was only a matter of seconds before flames were shooting out from beneath the hood, followed by an explosion that sent several already dead bodies flinging through the air.
"Gonna die motherfucker!" he heard a voice call out and his eyes widened in horror as a pipe bomb landed at his feet.
"Fuck," Artie muttered to himself as he was sent rolling down the side of the grassy embankment to avoid the blast, his Benelli flying into a nearby stream. The relentless bikers continued to fire away as he lay on the ground, their bullets ripping through the earth surrounding him and sending tiny pebbles pinging against him as their rounds chipped away at the boulders.
Iceman had managed to sneak up on one of the bikers firing at his friend, grabbing the man from behind and using him as a human shield while he fired away with his AKM, cutting down two Whiteskins and sending another scampering for cover in front of the semi.
"No don't!" he heard the biker cry out as his buddies opened fire, ridding his chest and stomach with rounds as Iceman retreated backward, tossing his body aside as he was able to take cover behind one of the Patriots.
Sid meanwhile was struggling against the remaining bikers, his clip running dry and struggling to find adequate cover, not wanting any of the cars on the trailer damaged. He eventually found himself leaping over the opposite guard rail, a round grazing his side as he was airborne.
Artie had regained his senses and climbed the hillside, pulling out his Desert Eagle as the remaining bikers came into view and he took aim, catching one of the men in the lower back and another in the kidney before their friend could turn around, only to have Iceman jump him from behind and drive his KA-BAR into the man's throat.
"Shit, there's more of them coming!" the gun runner called out, hearing the roar of motorcycle engines in the distance and looking over to see more Whiteskins descending a nearby hill, "Artie, you drive the truck, we'll cover you!" he called out as Sid made his way over the nearby guard rail clutching his bleeding side.
"Got it," Artie nodded running towards the truck and scooping up the now deceased passenger's RPK, climbing into the Phantom through the passenger's side and finding the frightened driver still cowering inside. "Get the fuck out!" he screamed punching the man in the face and sending him falling out onto the pavement, grabbing the door and slamming it shut before shifting the truck into drive.
He looked into the rearview mirror to see a convoy of motorcycles approaching and could see Iceman swerving the Patriot back and forth, doing whatever he could to cut them off as Sid tried desperately to drop them with the H&K G36.
"Fucking kill them already!" Iceman shouted as he swerved to avoid the remnants of an overturned Hellfury as Winds of Plague's "Soldiers of Doomsday" blasted over the Patriot's radio.
"I could if you would fucking keep it still!" Sid screamed back while struggling to reload.
"Well that's kind of fucking hard to do when you're trying to avoid having your tires shot out from under you and not getting your fucking head blown off in the process!" Iceman hollered back, firing rounds from his Colt Anaconda towards a biker that had pulled up alongside him, managing to hit the Hellfury's passenger as the driver reached for a TEC-9.
"Fucking die you pussy bitch!" the man screamed.
Seeing what the biker was about to attempt, Iceman jerked the wheel to his left, throwing off Sid's aim and causing him to nearly drop his rifle out the window as the smuggler successfully managed to ram the biker and send him skidding to the pavement.
"You fucking jackass!" Sid screamed back as another bullet grazed his arm.
"Is that any way to talk to the man trying to save your scrawny bitch ass?" Iceman retorted looking ahead to check up on Artie's progress, his eyes widening when he saw what awaited his friend.
It was proving to be a Herculean task for the hitman to keep the semi and its load under control as he traveled down the expressway at a dangerous speed, obliterating a Walton pickup that had crossed his path from a nearby dirt road and running a tractor off the highway as he struggled to slow down.
"Goddamn it, this is the last time I ever drive one of these fucking things!" he shouted in frustration as he passed a rod and gun club, where several rednecks looked on passively not wanting to get involved.
He looked into the rearview mirror again to see Iceman and Sid still struggling to hold off the attacking bikers, so distracted he forgot about the turn in front of him and slammed the brakes and jerked the wheel to his right, the trailer nearly jackknifing behind him.
"Damn it!" he shouted as he struggled to straighten out the truck, looking ahead to see two more Patriots forming a roadblock and several more Whiteskins present with assault rifles and submachine guns, including one who was hoisting an RPG-7 onto his shoulder.
"Shit! Shit! Shit!" Artie repeated to himself as he could feel his heart racing while the other bikers opened fire, riddling the truck with bullets. The RPK rested on the seat next to him, but he didn't have time to reach for it. All he could really think of right now was keeping his foot on the gas, hoping the biker with the RPG-7 wouldn't be stupid enough to try firing if he knew him and his buddies would be caught in the blast radius if he got too close.
Indeed it could have been a wise move as the man was seen lowering the rocket launcher and scrambling to get out of the way, but Artie would not be deterred at this point and kept the pedal to the floor, sniggering dementedly as he accelerated towards the roadblock, watching as many of the other bikers were beginning to follow suit.
With a deafening crash Artie plowed the Phantom through the parked SUVs and managed to run over more than one of the waiting bikers. He looked in his rearview mirror again to see Iceman and Sid managing to take down several more of the Whiteskins, including the punk carrying the rocket launcher much to the hitman's relief.
Seeing no more bikers ahead of him and no other obstacles to slow him down Artie punched the gas pedal and sped down the freeway towards the Lincoln Island ramp, focused on getting the shipment back to Ratchet while all the cars (to his knowledge) were still in one piece.
He finally began slowing down as the familiar skyline of Lincoln Island came back into view and he looked back to see it was only Iceman following after him, the Whiteskins having vanished from view.
It wasn't long before Artie was pulling up to Ratchet's garage in the Horgate district and he pulled into the adjoining lot, shaking the shards of broken glass off of him as he exited the cab and Iceman's Patriot pulled up alongside him.
"You gonna be alright, kid?" Iceman asked as his employee emerged from the passenger seat, blood covering his side and one of his arms.
"I'll manage," Sid said grabbing a bandana and pressing it against the tear on his arm.
"Well you'd better get your ass over and get it looked at right away," Iceman ordered, "I'll make sure you get your reward for this job. Just get going."
"Fine," Sid nodded before running over and smashing the driver's side window of a parked Sunrise and climbing inside, hotwiring the car and taking off.
Ratchet soon emerged from the garage and inspected the cars over to make sure everything was still in one piece, "Hell yeah, way to go boys," he said before looking over to see it was just Artie and Iceman, "Where are the others?"
"Sid went to the hospital, but the others didn't make it," Iceman reported looking towards the shot up semi-truck.
"Damn it," Ratchet said kicking some dirt aside, wondering how he would break the news to the men's families, especially Glenn, who now left behind three children without a daddy to wake up to.
Artie meanwhile now finally had the time to check out some of the cars he had been transporting, including another Infernus, a Stinger, a vintage Cheetah, a Banshee similar to Donnie's, a Comet, a Turismo, a Super GT, a ZR-350, a Deimos SP, and a Bullet GT, all high end sports cars that would have netted a pretty penny wherever they were sold. He wanted to let out a whistle, but refrained from doing such as now would have been an inappropriate time. He still couldn't believe though that Ratchet wanted to have these beautiful cars rigged to blow.
Ratchet meanwhile had disappeared back inside and emerged with three cases, each of them carrying ten thousand dollars cash as promised, the last one intended for Sid.
"Here this is yours for a job well done," he nodded solemnly to the hired gun before presenting one to his older brother before going back into the garage without a word.
"You think he's gonna be alright?" Artie asked the gun runner.
"I sure hope so. You never know with him. He's lost plenty of friends before with some of the jobs he's sent them on, but Glenn was one of his oldest friends. Hopefully he'll be feeling better soon," Iceman replied making his way back to the Patriot, "I don't know about you, but I need a hard drink after this, no a few hard drinks. C'mon, there's a bar over in Harbor called Misty Blue's. it should be open pool night and they have some of the best cheese curds in all of Rushmore for half price."
"Eh, I guess it wouldn't hurt," Artie shrugged before climbing inside.
XXXXXXXXXXXX
Author's Note: This mission was inspired by the 'Stacking the Deck' mission from "Saints Row 1" and a lot of the Roosevelt Hills area is supposed to be inspired by the Red County area outside of Los Santos in "GTA: San Andreas."
And now onto the random notes…
The opening of this chapter was a parody galore based on real-life video games. "Metal God" was a spoof of the "Guitar Hero" series and the 'Viking-like guitarist' he played as was inspired by GH's Lars Umlaut, the black/Viking metal inspired guitarist who wears the black and white corpse paint like a member of Dimmu Borgir.
For the other video games parodied and their real-life counterparts:
Tools of Bloodshed – Gears of War
Sinner's Junction – Saints Row
Epic – Fable
Full Blown Chaos – Grand Theft Auto
Super Road Brawler Omega 3 – Street Fighter Alpha 3
Gold Road Retribution – Red Dead Redemption
R.S.W.A. (Rock Star Wrestling Alliance) Unleashed – Raw vs. Smackdown
The "Ultra Bowl" is my spoof of the Super Bowl, "Criminal Justice" is a spoof of the "Law & Order" series, and Artie saying "I'll be there" is him spoofing Arnold Schwarzenegger's most famous line from the "Terminator" series.
As for Ratchet's physical inspiration, I would say he is inspired by James Durbin from the 10th season of "American Idol," who himself is a big metalhead.
Well I think I've pretty much covered everything for this chapter so as always read and review! Until then, this is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/