Author's Note: For this chapter I will include some Spanish dialogue for which I've used Google Translate to help me understand. I will use the Spanish dialogue and then I will have its English translation next to it in parentheses to keep me from needing to post it in the ending author's note. I am not a native Spanish speaker, so please bear with me if I do get some things wrong.
Well that's it for now so until then it's on with the story!
Chapter 18: Making Amends
The next morning Artie had woken up with nothing to do and decided he would see what was happening on the worldwide web, deciding to finally make use of the e-mail account Randy set up for him.
He had gone to the Cyber-Ing internet café over in Horgate and was seated at one of the computers, where he enjoyed a Smoke-a-Lotta Latte as he browsed online. Mostly his e-mails consisted of requests from Randy, Zeke and Iceman to join their battalion on 'Sworn for Battle.' In addition to that he had also gone through daily weather reports, results of sporting events, and even browsed his daily horoscope, telling him about the importance of forgiving those who had recently wronged him and how it could bring him great rewards in the end.
"Like that ever happens," he thought to himself as he browsed the official homepage of the Celebrities United for Nicer Treatment or C.U.N.T. for short, where socialite Cloe Parker was criticizing the Liberty City paparazzi for snapping embarrassing pictures of her best friend as she received oral sex simultaneously from two other women at the same time, "Like we need to know about any of this shit."
The café was surprisingly packed for this time of day and he had been lucky enough to find the last remaining station, causing him to wonder how many people in this city really had a life.
"Oh well, I'd rather be surrounded by geeks than gangbangers any day of the week. At least you can threaten these losers with an actual gun and they'll back down," he mused to himself as he browsed the Weazel News website, where they were discussing the results of the most recent mayoral debate between Mayor Ron Walker and his challenger Robert Kretchell.
He wasn't a political person by nature and quite frankly hated politics altogether, but still he found himself getting a good chuckle out of what he read as Mayor Walker seemed to agree with the majority of his right-wing supporters that all the illegal aliens in this country would soon bring back the Bubonic Plague.
"Those fuckers wouldn't hesitate to disown their own grandmothers for being too liberal," Artie thought to himself, "Awful funny how when anybody else would be caught doing drugs or cheating on their spouses they'd automatically be a 'failure as a human being,' but then one of their own does it and they suddenly 'need our prayers' and all that other double standard bullshit. Give me a fucking break!"
Meanwhile, a couple rows ahead of Artie, a horny pervert who also happened to be one of his co-workers from Freeman Cabs named Otis Moleman was looking for his daily fix and about to log onto the kiddie porn site known as 'Little Lacy Surprise Pageant.'
"Oh yes, time to view me some unspoiled lily white flesh," he giggled, barely able to control himself as he typed the website onto the address bar, squealing in delight as he pushed the 'Enter' key. "Time to have some fun now! Daddy's here!"
"Alright, I think I've spent enough time around here," Artie thought standing up and stretching his arms, "Maybe I'll see what Iceman's up to today."
Before he could even step away from his station the café's front window was shattered by a ball-like object, causing the cashier to stare curiously at it.
"What the-" he uttered just as a hiss sounded, followed by jets of tear gas shooting out.
The front door was kicked in and like a bolt of lightning, an entire platoon of heavily-armed N.O.O.S.E. operatives clad in full riot gear piled into the small internet café.
"Everybody down on the fucking ground now! You're all under arrest!" the lead operative called out before grabbing a petite woman and tossing her to the ground.
"But sir, I didn't do anything!" a college student protested before being zapped to the ground by a stun gun.
"We'll be giving the orders around here, now get your worthless asses to the ground now!' the operative again barked, this time spraying a young woman in the face with a can of mace, then striking her with his nightstick as she screamed in pain.
"Get down on the ground now!" the officers shouted repeatedly as they approached every single patron and forced them down to their knees, pulling out pairs of riot cuffs to place everybody under arrest. Whenever the patrons protested their innocence they were either zapped with stun guns, pepper sprayed, or just simply knocked to the floor by the officers' riot shields.
"Get your fucking ass to the ground now chump stain!" a N.O.O.S.E. operative ordered grabbing Artie and shoving him backwards against his computer station before throwing him to the ground.
"Hey, police brutality pig!" the Italian-American grunted before taking a steel-toed boot to the side.
"I am the law here and I will be the one doing the talking!" the officer barked like a drill sergeant.
Artie could only groan in frustration as the plastic handcuffs were tied around his wrists and he was lifted to his feet by two officers, looking down to see the cashier apprehended as well.
"This will be teaching you to be checking out little girls you sick freak!" an officer shouted into Otis Moleman's ear as the overweight man was thrown against the café's wall before being led outside, "Everybody suffers because of you!"
Artie looked towards the front door where a dark-haired man in a black suit stood talking to one of the armored cops, "Looks like 'Operation Lacy' was a success. Book 'em boys! Get these sick freaks out of my sight before I snap and show them what I did to those kangaroos back in Sydney."
"Yes sir," an officer called out before returning his attention to Artie, "C'mon, move your ass sicko," he said kicking the hired gun hard in the backside and forcing him through the café's front door, where a group of concerned onlookers gathered, held back by both N.O.O.S.E. and F.I.B. agents. There was already news vans from RCNN-13 and Weazel News present with their anchors reporting live and nearby was another van, this one belonging to the popular reality television series "Rushmore's Most Wanted," where the host Chris Walsh stood before a camera.
"You see they can be anywhere, pedophiles come in all different shapes and sizes, even that kindly old lady from next door who serves you milk and cookies could be a pedophile herself. You always have to remain vigilant when putting up with these types of people and if there are ever any innocent bystanders amongst the group; well you can never trust them either. Sick people like this have ways of being able to disguise themselves well in public, but mark my words, once they see your sweet little boy standing there with his beanie cap and adorable Pogo the Monkey t-shirt on, they'll be all over them like flies to honey, wanting to explore every single inch of their unspoiled virginal flesh in their own little 'all you can eat' buffet!"
In the background a chubby woman in a purple top was shown being tossed across the hood of a police cruiser and being manhandled, while a bum who had been digging through a trashcan was suddenly snatched away and tossed to the ground, where he was beaten savagely with nightsticks.
Not much farther away there was an overweight balding man in a bowler's shirt who looked over and saw Chris Walsh, "Oh my god, it's Chris Walsh!" the man screamed before pulling out a gun and placing it to his temple, squeezing the trigger and splattering his brains all over a nearby child.
"Oh my god, Chris Walsh!" a fat frizzy-haired man shouted before pulling out a TEC-9 and placing it beneath his chin, obliterating his entire face.
"Chris Walsh!" called out a man in a white and red windbreaker before leaping from the apartment complex he stood atop, landing on a parked Cognoscenti, causing its alarm to go off.
Artie found himself forced into a line where the café patrons were being loaded one by one into a waiting Stockade. The people ahead of him protested nonstop as they were shoved inside, particularly a middle-aged man in a flannel shirt and black jeans.
"You can't do this to me! I have my rights! I will sue your ass for every cent you're worth if you keep this shit up!" the man shouted, until a N.O.O.S.E. agent fired a volley of hot lead point blank into his face.
"Dude, now that is not cool!" another officer shouted as he stepped in to stop his colleague.
"Don't give me that liberal bullshit you weak stomached pussy!" the officer shot back freeing himself of his co-worker's grip, "Christ, you're sounding no better than them!"
"Uh…we can edit that out, can't we?" Chris Walsh asked his cameraman, his cheeks turning beet red.
"No problem sir," the cameraman replied.
Without further incident the remaining patrons were led into the back of the Stockade, too frightened after what had just transpired.
"This is fucking bullshit," Artie thought to himself as he was seated next to Otis.
"Oh, hey Artie! Howdy do! Now this is not the ideal way to be starting off my day. My mom's gonna be so worried when I don't come home tonight," the overweight cabbie spoke looking around nervously.
"All thanks to your fat perverted ass," Artie thought as the doors were slammed shut.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
**10 Hours Later**
"This is fucking bullshit," Artie Cappelli muttered to himself for the millionth time as he sat in the large communal cell along with everybody else had been present at the café.
It was now 8 o'clock at night and he had literally spent his entire day in a jail cell without being given his obligatory phone call, which would have given him the chance to be out of there hours ago and away from all these people.
For the most part he had refused to converse with the other detainees, especially that short, overweight freckle-faced girl who looked to be barely out of high school that seemed to have developed a crush on him. He answered in one or two word replies when spoken to, that or raising his fists to let them know he wasn't in the mood for chitchat.
"When the fuck are they going to let the rest of us out of this shithole? They've already got who they want," he thought to himself looking over to Otis, who was in the middle of picking his nose and scratching his crotch at the same time. God how he wanted to get out of there so badly to the point he was ready to start beating people to death.
The loud clang of metal caught his attention as did the other patrons as a police officer stepped into view, flanked by two N.O.O.S.E. agents clad in their full riot gear.
"Arthur Cappelli?" the officer called out.
The young man sprung to his feet at the mention of his name ready for what was to come, "Yeah, that's me."
The officer pulled out his keys and opened the cell door, "You're free to go."
Everybody looked in disbelief towards Artie, who couldn't believe his sudden good fortune and quickly made his way out of the cell while the door was slammed shut behind him.
"Are you serious?" he asked the officer, unable to believe he was asking questions after being given a sudden release.
"By orders of the precinct captain himself you are free to go," the officer replied sounding agitated, "I honestly have no idea why, but he just said that you were to be released immediately."
"Oh…well I thank you very much officer and I assure you that I had nothing to do with whatever happened back at that internet café. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time," Artie spoke.
"Heh yeah, that's what all you lawbreakers say! Now just get the fuck outta here before I change my mind behind the captain's back," the officer ordered with a dismissive wave.
"Asshole," Artie muttered under his breath while making his way back into the lobby, his last time here being when he was called in to bail out his cousin Donnie.
"Hey yo' Cuz!" a familiar voice called out, one which made him flinch.
"Speak of the Devil," he thought to himself as he turned to face his cousin Donnie, who stood near the front desk clad in a black leather jacket, button up shirt underneath, a pair of dark blue jeans and two-toned athletic shoes.
"What are you doing here?" Artie asked, unable to hide the irritation in his tone. "Last time I saw your sorry ass you almost got me killed."
"I bailed your guinea ass out, that's what," Donnie proclaimed snatching his cousin's hand and giving it a firm pump.
Artie could not believe his ears, "You of all people just bailed my ass out?"
Donnie laughed heartily, "Jesus you need to clean that shit outta your ears Cuz! You heard me right, Donnie Cappelli doesn't bullshit nobody!" He then lowered his tone slightly, "You bailed my ass out once and now it's my time to return the favor."
"You mean to tell me you're actually doing something for somebody other than yourself for once in your life?" Artie asked as they made their way towards the double doors, "How the hell did you know I got arrested?"
"It was on the news jackass," Donnie chuckled as they stepped through the exit, "Stuff flies around these parts faster than a monkey flinging its own shit. Christ, you get busted for stealing a fucking pack of sugar people will know about it right away!"
"Heh, guess that's a good thing this time," Artie said as they made their way down the steps towards a waiting Willard with its driver's side window smashed.
"Where's your Banshee man? I thought these kinds of cars were beneath your exquisite taste," Artie observed as his cousin climbed inside and then reached over to unlock the passenger door for him.
"Let's just say I decided to 'borrow' it from some not-so-comely young lass from the Supa Save and take it for a little joyride," Donnie chuckled as he switched over to the Techno Playground FM station, currently playing "Southern Sun" by Paul Oakenfold.
"Let me get this straight, you of all people, going for a joyride in this hunk of junk?" Artie asked as the rusted handle broke off when he attempted to roll the window down, "I never thought I'd see the day the almighty Donatello Cappelli would be caught dead in such a ride."
Donnie sighed in irritation, "If you must know, I have a little 'job' to perform and I'm in no hurry to let my pride and joy be shot to shit or blown up."
Artie looked towards his cousin like he was about ready to jump out of the car, "Oh my fucking god Donnie! Don't tell me you just bailed my ass out so I could accompany you on another suicide mission! Remember what happened the last time? I almost got my ass killed because of you!"
Donnie sped the car up, "You're right Cuz, I do need your help with another job and trust me, it won't be a 'suicide mission' like the last time."
"Can't you just go to somebody else for help goddamn it?" Artie grunted, driving his elbow into the window out of frustration and shattering it into a million pieces.
"Hey, hey take it easy Cuz! If I didn't trust your sorry ass I wouldn't be bringing you along!" Donnie shot back.
Artie exhaled deeply again, "Okay, before I try to jump out and save my own ass from your stupidity please tell me who you pissed off this time."
"Thank you Artie, I knew you'd see things my way for once," Donnie spoke making a left turn, "If you must know I haven't pissed anybody off…yet. A moving truck has been hijacked."
"And what the fuck's so special about that?" Artie asked, "What the fuck could be so special about it that it involves us needing to put our bacon on the line yet again? Christ, there's gotta be a thousand fucking moving trucks in this city!"
Donnie took a deep breath before replying, "Let's just say the contents consist of some priceless antiques that happen to be very important to a dear friend of mine, so priceless he doesn't trust the pigs around here, fearing they will try taking it for themselves if given the opportunity," he explained coming to a stop at a red light, the most legal thing he had done all day long.
"Since when did you become somebody's bitch?" Artie chuckled, only to receive a sharp glare for his wisecrack.
"I'm nobody's bitch!" the elder Cappelli snapped, "I'm doing this out of the goodness of my own heart thank you very much!"
"Yeah right, just like when you're banging some different slut for every different day of the week! Oh yeah Donnie, you're just a regular saint among men," Artie countered sarcastically, prompting Donnie to suddenly slam on the gas pedal.
"Fuck you man! Just be lucky you're my flesh and blood or else I would've gladly kicked you out into oncoming traffic for that," Donnie hissed, maintaining a white knuckle grip on his steering wheel.
"Well if you cared so much for your own flesh and blood then you wouldn't have almost gotten me killed back at that strip club," Artie replied.
"Will you let that go already!" Donnie hollered, "Jesus Fucking Christ let it go for once!"
"Fine, I'll drop your ass off in the middle of the woods, handcuffed and with a bunch of steaks tied around your neck, leave you to the mercy of the wolves and grizzlies. Let's see you try letting that go," Artie again countered.
"Gah! Just fucking give it up!" Donnie snapped.
"So, have any idea where you're dragging my sorry ass to this time around?" Artie asked as they pulled off the freeway.
"Steel Junction," the elder cousin replied, "Yes, I can't believe I'm heading into that shithole either."
"I take it you must be getting paid pretty damn good for you to go there of all places," Artie said staring at the big green sign telling them how far away Steel Junction was.
"Ten thousand," Donnie replied, "Don't worry; I'll be giving you a cut as long as you don't run away with your tail between your legs like a little bitch."
"You'd better," Artie hissed as some beaten down vehicles came into view.
"You have to anyway; you owe me for bailing your ass out," Donnie smirked, "Consider this our way of 'making amends' for that last debacle."
"Whatever you say," Artie replied with a roll of his eyes, "but tell me first, how did you manage to bail my ass out in the first place? They said I was let go by orders of the captain himself."
"Look in the glove box," Donnie ordered.
Opening the glove box, Artie found a manila envelope inside and opened it to find several black and white photos within.
They were all pictures of a middle-aged man engaged in various illegal activities, including several of him cavorting with scantily-clad women, either in the backseat of his car, in back alleys, seedy hotels, even one of him and a woman on a pool table. There were also images of him snorting a line of cocaine with two more powdery white lines waiting, observing an illegal underground cockfight, accepting bribes from drug dealers, including members of the Redcoats and Yardies, driving while intoxicated and even urinating on a tree in Nixon Park.
"Nothing a little good old fashioned blackmail can't help," Donnie said with a hearty laugh, "The gentleman in those photos is Dexter Sperling, captain of the precinct house here on Lincoln Island. Let's just say he didn't want the trouble of keeping you around after I threatened to expose his 'extracurricular activities.'"
"Donnie you manipulative son of a bitch you," Artie laughed as he put the photos away, "Just exactly where did you get these photos?"
"Eh, I have my 'sources,' some friends in low places if you wish to say," Donnie casually replied.
"Well you must know the right people then," Artie acknowledged.
"When you're as suave as I am, anything is possible," Donnie winked as they finally reached Steel Junction.
"Whatever, I'm sure if I was a chick I'd be so wet between the thighs just being within your presence alone," Artie sarcastically quipped.
The Willard moved carefully through the nighttime streets as the hobos and prostitutes were out in full force, including them passing a rocking police cruiser.
"Talk about to 'serve and protect'" Donnie chuckled as they passed the police car and drove a couple blocks further into the shithole that was Steel Junction, its old tenement buildings and long abandoned stores making Camden Heights look like an urban utopia. Hell, the entire place looked like the aftermath of some futuristic warzone!
Nearly all of the buildings were either charred husks of their former glory or a few blackened support pillars sticking out of mountains of rubble. For the few left untouched by the great blaze that may have occurred here, they were boarded up from top to bottom.
Donnie eventually ran through a long dead stoplight, where a street fight could be seen through the opened gates of an abandoned distribution warehouse, and took a right onto a street lined by broken down old cars and brought the car to a stop behind the rusted hull of an '84 Dinka Perennial.
"Time to get to work," the elder Cappelli cousin spoke popping the trunk.
Making his way around the car, Artie found his cousin pulling out a DSR-1 bolt-action sniper rifle and handing it to him.
"Take this too," Donnie said handing him a silencer, "As much as I love a big explosion, we don't need any trouble from the fuzz right now," he spoke before slipping on a Kevlar vest and then handing one to Artie.
"Any idea who you're going up against?" Artie asked before accepting a silenced Beretta M9 from his cousin.
"Some Cubans," the elder Cappelli replied, "They basically hate everybody, so they're pretty much looking to start shit wherever they can. Stealing vehicles is nothing new for them, especially when they can make a big buck off what's inside," he said pulling out a silenced Beretta M9 and an MP5 with a silencer attached.
Once his weapons were locked and loaded Donnie leaned over to his cousin, "Alright, we need to get this truck back in one piece. I need you to find a high vantage point where you'll be able to cover my ass. Knowing these guys they'll probably have snipers on the roof, so I'll need you to take them out before I can go any further. If those sons of bitches see me, I'm fucked…and not in a good way."
"For once you think with your actual head and not your dick," Artie chuckled, only to be silenced by a sharp glare from Donnie.
"Quit being a fucking comedian and come on," the elder Capelli hissed making his way into the nearby alley.
The cousins crept through the darkened passage, the only other sounds being the dripping of water from faulty overhead pipes and the screeching of the nearby rats. They continued until they were silenced by someone speaking in Spanish.
"Oye, ¿has visto ese juego los estadistas de anoche?" (Hey, did you see that Statesmen game last night?)
"Eh, no, a diferencia de en el culo sin vida, en realidad estaba recibiendo algun gatito ayer por la noche!" (Heh no, unlike your lifeless ass I was actually getting some pussy last night!) another voice called out.
Donnie crept to the corner and looked around to see three Cuban thugs standing around, one a short man wearing an orange flannel shirt buttoned at the top to show a white wifebeater underneath and beige khaki pants who was holding a Remington 11-87 semi-automatic shogun, the second wearing a wife beater and an orange headband with a Micro Uzi and the third thug also wearing an orange headband, but with a white t-shirt and black denim shorts, and carried an AMP Automag Model 180 handgun.
"Yo lo vi, esos dumbasses no podia jugar a su manera con una bolsa de nueces, si su vida dependiera de ello!" (I saw it; those dumbasses couldn't play their way out of a nut sack if their lives depended on it!) the Automag-carrying thug replied.
"Hey! Tenga cuidado de no volver! El jefe no quiere ver nada danado!" (Hey! Be careful back there! The boss doesn't wanna see anything damaged!) the shotgun-toting thug shouted to someone behind him.
"Alright, we're definitely at the right place," Donnie spoke over his shoulder to Artie before raising the silenced Beretta and firing a round that caught the shotgun thug in the back of the head. Before the guy's colleagues could comprehend what was going on, he finished them both with two silenced shots for each man.
With the three guards taken care of, Donnie pulled out a balaclava and slid it over his face. He looked over to the six story building behind them, "Okay, that building should provide you a good enough vantage point. I expect you to be covering my ass and nothing less. You bail on me; I will hunt you down and kill you myself. Are we understood dear Cousin?"
"Of course I'm gonna be watching your monkey ass. What's family for?" Artie nodded before approaching a nearby door and trying the knob, only for the rickety door to fall off its hinges.
"I'll move in when I see the first guy on the ground fall," Donnie called back before taking a position behind the dumpster near the fallen thugs.
"Christ, you should've given me a fucking flashlight Donnie," Artie told himself as he entered a dimly-lit corridor littered with broken crack pipes, spent shell casings, rotten food, mangled furniture and a few roach-infested mattresses. He eventually found the stairwell entrance at the end and ascended the six flights of stairs until he found a weathered sign reading 'Roof Access' and went to open the door, only to find it locked. Taking a few steps back, he launched himself forward and kicked the door open.
The night air was filthy as he stepped onto the bloodstained cement, the surface also riddled with pock marks from bullets colliding against it. An overturned ping pong table lay near the edge and Artie knelt down as he approached as a safety precaution, despite being on top of the tallest building in the vicinity.
Peering through the rifle's scope he looked down to see snipers positioned on three of the rooftops, two men per building.
"Time to say goodnight boys," the hired gun whispered as he took aim at a thug who crassly relieved himself off the side of the building. At least some of these guys appeared pretty lax about their assigned duties and would make easy pickings.
Squeezing the trigger Artie caught the urinating thug square in the chest and sent the man tumbling over the ledge and out of sight.
"One down," he whispered as the other Cuban stepped into view and he inhaled sharply, pulling the trigger and dropping the man with a silenced round to the sternum.
"Like shooting fish in a barrel," he said quietly as he adjusted his aim towards the second building and set his sights upon a thug standing in front of a water tower, waiting for his friend to get farther away from him before firing a round straight into the man's throat. The other thug had seen his friend fall and went over to investigate, only to be crumple next to his colleague after taking a muffled round to the face.
For the last building he would have to shift positions and took cover behind an air conditioning unit, where the two thugs on the last building conversed amongst themselves.
"Come on you fuckers, get away from each other," Artie grumbled wanting to take them both down when the second guy wouldn't see his friend fall right away.
After a bit of raucous laughter, the chubby thug carrying an AR-15 finally walked away from his buddy, leaving the other man open for a bullet to the skull when his colleague was out of earshot.
"Alright, one more to go and then I can go for the freaks on the ground, then Donnie can move in," Artie said aloud as he set his sights on the last man, who wouldn't be hard to miss given his considerable bulk. Squeezing the trigger once, he fired a round that sailed through the back of the man's shaved head.
"Got those jokers accounted for," Artie thought as he used the scope to scan the rooftops for any late arrivals. When there were none he allowed himself to load a fresh clip and focused his attention on the yard below.
There were eight thugs total in sight and when he saw the opened garage door of the nearby warehouse he knew there had to be more inside.
The truck was a dark brown Yankee, which he recognized as those used by the Brown Tail Moving Co., and in front of it there were three men standing around, two Cubans and one a gray-haired Caucasian man in a brown leather jacket.
"Wonder who the fuck that guy is," Artie said to himself as he took aim at the thug farthest away from the crew. With another deep inhale he squeezed the trigger and dropped the man with a shot to his upper back that would travel through his heart.
Donnie was able to see the first body fall and true to his word, crept for cover behind an abandoned Bobcat that had been stripped of its tires. He snuck along the edge and listened for footsteps as a short man in an orange t-shirt and black basketball shorts walked past him with an Armalite AR-18 in hand, raising his silenced Beretta and firing three shots into the back of the man's head.
He didn't bother to hide the body, hoping all of these men would soon be dead anyway. The elder Cappelli bolted for cover behind a stack of old wooden crates and was about to fire upon a thug approaching the first ground-level victim, only for the man to fall with a shot to the base of his neck.
Donnie knelt for cover and flashed a thumbs up to his cousin, "Fuck yeah Artie, that's how you do it."
A gutted Oceanic wasn't too far away and Donnie rushed for cover behind it, sliding along the ground loud enough to attract the attention of a nearby guard.
"The fuck was that?" the Cuban thug called out in English and crept towards the rusted shell with his Ithaca 37 at the ready.
"¿Seguro que no es alta ya Felipe? Eso era una cosa bastante potente Mando tenia alli," (You sure you're not high already Felipe? That was some pretty potent stuff Mando had back there) another guard laughed.
"Vete a la mierda el hombre!" (Fuck you man!) Felipe called back.
"Lo haria, pero esto no es San Fierro!" (I would, but this isn't San Fierro!) the other Cuban laughed as he walked off in a different direction.
Artie took aim on the guard closest to Donnie as he hid behind the rusted remnants of the Oceanic and fired a round which had gone a little further south than intended, striking the man in his balls.
Unfortunately, the guard's buddy was close enough to hear his pained gurgles followed by his body hitting the pavement and he turned around in wide-eyed terror.
"Mierda, nos estamos tomando el fuego!" (Shit, we're taking fire!) the thug called out waving his AK-47 around for the source.
"Guess it's time to stop with all the stealthy crap," Donnie whispered as he withdrew his silenced MP5 and fired a muffled barrage into the guard's back, causing him to squeeze his trigger before he fell to the concrete.
"Ahi esta!" (There he is) a guard called out opening fire, forcing the elder Cappelli to take cover behind an unmanned forklift.
Unknown to his cousin, Donnie had brought some hand grenades along and tossed one towards the shooter, the following explosion sending the man's shredded body airborne and landing with a wet splat not far from him.
"You're going down motherfucker!" another thug called out as seven additional thugs rushed into view and all opened fire upon the elder cousin.
"Keep talking you wetback bitches! I ain't going nowhere!" Donnie shouted back before popping out and firing towards his attackers, managing to graze a long-haired man in a soiled wife beater before he managed to slide behind a concrete barrier for cover.
In addition to the two remaining guards, there were now nine thugs trying to take down Donnie, and possibly more who were still inside the warehouse. For now Artie had to focus on what he could see and fired a round that struck one man in his abdomen, followed by another to his hip as he tried staggering away. With that man taken care of, he squeezed off a round which tore apart a man's forearm before he was forced to reload.
"That's right, take it like a bitch!" Donnie laughed as he watched a man clutching at his bleeding forearm, finishing him with a barrage to the chest.
"Nobody spills an amigo's blood and gets away with it!" shouted a thug wearing a zip up orange hoodie that was wide open, exposing his heavily-tattooed upper body underneath. The man was armed with a CZ-75 Automatic and sprayed the barrier Donnie hid behind wildly, forcing the elder Cappelli to blind fire, but firing a round which nicked the man's arm and forced him to drop his weapon, leaving him to fall compliments of a silenced round to the chest.
"You ain't leavin' here on your feet holmes!" another Cuban thug shouted pulling out a pipe bomb and chucking it in Donnie's direction.
"Oh shit!" the elder Cappelli cried out bolting away in crouch run as the bullets sailed above his head.
Artie saw the improvised explosive detonate and knew things were getting desperate for his cousin, meaning he would have to work faster and make the next few shots count.
He took notice of the thug who had thrown the pipe bomb and squeezed off a round that tore through the man's thigh, sending him falling to the pavement writhing in pain. One of his friends attempted to rush to his aid, but he would soon fall as another round from Artie's rifle perforated his forehead.
"Este hombre no viene solo!" (This guy didn't come alone!) one of the thugs shouted in his native tongue, raising a Desert Eagle and firing wildly through the smoke as he tried to kill their assailant, only to fall as one of the unseen sniper's rounds struck him through the heart and left him to bleed out.
"Suck on that bitch!" Donnie shouted tossing another hand grenade at his enemies, prompting them to scatter. The blast would catch a fleeing thug who had tripped over his wounded ally, killing both of them as they failed to escape the radius.
"¿No puedes hacer nada bien idiotas?" (Can't you idiots do anything right?) one of the thugs in the warehouse shouted to his subordinates, scooping up a Colt M4 and rushing to join the fracas.
There were two thugs left in addition to the one emerging from the warehouse, yet Donnie continued to hold his own, slapping a fresh clip into his silenced MP5 and managing to wound a shirtless man wielding a Remington Spartan 100 sawed-off shotgun before firing a cluster of rounds which tore apart his buddy's face.
"You bitches have lost! You might as well just turn over the truck and send us on our way!" Donnie shouted to the remaining thugs.
"Go to hell gringo bitch!" the M4-wielding thug shot back before unleashing a salvo of his own.
"Suit yourself!" Donnie called back chucking another hand grenade towards his attackers, again forcing them to scatter and sending one of them running into another round from Artie's sniper rifle.
"Damn you gringo! I'm gonna kill you and your faggot butt buddy!" the Cuban thug shouted raising his rifle and firing wildly towards the rooftops, coming dangerously close to striking Artie and forcing him to duck behind the ledge for cover.
The thug's distraction opened him up to another barrage from Donnie, the rifle eventually being shot out of his hands before the elder Cappelli was forced to take cover when the other remaining guard opened fire.
"It ain't over you sneaky bitch," the other guard shouted, firing wildly with an AK-74. "It's just a matter of time before…" and without warning the man suddenly leapt in front of Donnie, "HA!"
Acting on instinct Donnie quickly kicked his foot out and swept the man from his feet, sending him falling to the ground next to him. Quickly mounting the man, the elder Cappelli cousin began pounding away at his face and then grabbed him by the shoulders, ramming his head repeatedly into the surface. Having dealt enough damage, he was finally able to reach for his silenced Beretta and shoved it into the man's opened mouth, pulling the trigger.
"Suck on that," Donnie spat kicking the man's lifeless body away.
With the last thug dealt with, Donnie looked towards the warehouse to see the M4-wielding thug staggering over clutching his mangled right hand. He had the man right where he wanted him and was confident the end was near.
"Fuck yeah Artie! I knew you could do it! We showed these bitches how Cappelli men roll!" he shouted triumphantly to his cousin before chasing after the last thug.
"Jesus Fucking Christ, Donnie! Way to announce my name to these bastards if there's any more of them hiding in the shadows! You should say it again; I don't think they heard you over on the other islands!" Artie thought to himself scooping up the DSR-1 and making his way down the stairs to join his cousin.
Donnie made his way into the warehouse with his gun raised and encountered two more thugs, immediately cutting one down in a hail of gunfire before he was forced to take cover behind a red tool case.
"Matar a eso hijo de puta!" (Kill that fucker!) the lead thug cried to his remaining subordinate.
Donnie could see the man was armed with a Mini Uzi, but was eying up a Soviet-made PKM machinegun resting on a nearby table and needed to get him taken care of before he could grab it.
"C'mon you bitches! I could be sitting here all night. I'm not going anywhere!" Donnie shouted back as he peeked out to see the thug inching towards the machinegun. "I could bang one of your old ladies in the time it takes you to squeeze the trigger!"
The remaining thug responded with a flurry of automatic rounds that dented the tool chest, the elder Cappelli holding out until the man's machine pistol clicked empty, leaving him a sitting duck for Donnie to leap out and fire a burst into his chest.
"C'mon out bub, it's just you and me now!" Donnie shouted noticing the trail of bloody footprints leading to an opened office door, "It's the end of the road and there's nowhere left to run," he called out hugging the wall alongside the door.
"Fuck you gringo bitch! Cubanos Locos are gonna track you down and smoke your bitch ass like a Cuban cigar!" the remaining thug called out, firing a Colt .45 with his good hand, "It's just a matter of time bitch boy!"
Taking a deep breath, Artie leapt into view and fired a barrage of rounds into the man's gut, sending him falling backwards over a swivel chair and landing hard in a corner.
"Who's the bitch now?" Donnie spat.
"You kill me and you're only gonna be bringing more trouble on yourself!" the thug grunted in between spurts of blood, only to be silenced later by another burst to the chest.
"Huh, what's that you said? I can't hear you when you've got shit in your mouth!" Donnie shouted back, mockingly cupping his hand to his ear.
"Well what do we have here?" the elder cousin asked looking over to the nearby desk and finding a silver briefcase resting. Walking over and popping the latches he looked in to find rows of freshly-minted dollar bills, which he assumed had to number somewhere around twenty thousand dollars. "I'll be taking that," he whispered to himself, only to jump a second later and whirl around with his gun raised.
"Donnie relax, it's just me!" Artie said raising his hands in the air.
"Right, c'mon we gotta get outta here," Donnie said pushing past his cousin and making his way back into the loading dock area and taking the time to grab the abandoned PKM, also spotting the waiting Yankee with its shutter opened and he looked inside to find a whole bunch of antique furniture, including several armchairs and loveseats, oak chests, desks and armoires, a grandfather clock, a 19th century globe, an early jukebox and even a phonograph. "Alright, that looks to be everything," he said pulling down the shutter and then running over to climb into the passenger side.
"You drive Artie, I'll deal with any other bitches that show up looking to cause trouble," Donnie said strapping on his seatbelt and readying his silenced MP5.
"Right," Artie replied climbing into the Yankee's cab and switching on the 94.3 CSKD station, currently playing "Bleeding Me Black" by Hell Within.
"Jeez, what is it with you and this death metal crap? You should be playing music that'll make a chick wanna just rip your pants off and suck your cock like there's no tomorrow," Donnie grunted in disgust.
"Fuck you asshole, this stuff is cool! I'd rather listen to this than those faggot Blue Brothers," Artie retorted.
"Ooh, you got me there," Donnie said mock wincing, "Those wimps think they can F-star-star-K as many underage preteen girls as they want, but just wait until they turn eighteen and they're languishing away in the nearest rehab clinic," the elder Cappelli laughed, making fun of their known refusal to actually swear.
"Okay, where are we dropping this off for that 'friend' of yours?" Artie asked as they exited the yard, driving carefully so he wouldn't risk damaging the merchandise in the cargo area.
"We'll be taking it to a storage locker in Jansport, after that we have to meet the guy so he can give us our cut – Whoa, fuck me in the ass! They've got back up!" Donnie shouted pointing ahead of them to find three orange and white Tornados and two Moonbeams racing towards them. He suddenly noticed one of the lowriders came to a halt near the Willard they arrived in.
"Artie, slow down now," Donnie ordered pulling out his cell phone.
"What the fuck, Donnie? You said we needed to haul ass outta here. This is no time to be calling one of your bitches right now," Artie shouted back, only to be hushed as his cousin held up the phone and listened to the ringing on the other end.
A loud explosion occurred before them and the Tornado was swallowed up whole, both flaming hunks of metal being launched high into the air, the lowrider falling on top of another Cuban gang car, the latter's driver barely escaping in time.
"Looks like we've got no other choice," Donnie said returning fire with his silenced MP5, "Artie, I grabbed that PKM from the warehouse. It's in the back, go and get it! I'll deal with these clowns!"
Nodding in reply, Artie threw the driver's side door open and sprinted towards the back of the truck as the bullets soared around him, quickly pulling the shutter up far enough for him to reach in and grab the machinegun. Making sure the cartridge was secured the hired gun stepped into view and let loose upon his attackers.
His high velocity rounds tore through the remaining Tornado, ripping through the opened passenger door and taking down the thug who had been using it as a shield before the traveled across and ripped apart the windshield, interior and hood before they found their way through the driver hiding behind his opened door.
"Touch me I'm happy!" Artie roared as he tore through his attackers, letting out a roar that would have made Jack Howitzer blush.
The PKM's rounds send two more thugs through a blender of flesh-tearing rounds and blew off another's leg beneath the kneecap, assuring he would soon bleed out within seconds. He eventually focused his attention on one of the Moonbeam vans, firing away until smoke billowed out from beneath its bonnet and was soon followed by flames, forcing those near it to scamper for cover, Donnie catching one of them with multiple rounds to the back.
There were five thugs left and they fired away madly at the cousins, prompting Donnie to pull out another hand grenade.
"Compliments of the Don!" he shouted before pulling the pin and lobbing the grenade towards them like a baseball, the explosive landing beneath the remaining Moonbeam and blowing it sky high, taking two more Cuban thugs down with it.
Artie held the PKM at waist level and depressed the trigger, catching a thug in orange cargo pants as he attempted to dive for cover, ripping the man's torso apart and dismembering him.
"That's gonna leave a mark," the hitman replied as the last two thugs fell by Donnie's hand.
"C'mon Cuz, that's the last of them let's get the hell outta here!" Donnie shouted climbing back into the Yankee.
Artie would soon follow and slammed on the gas pedal, wanting to get out of the rundown Steel Junction district as fast as possible, and in the process running over a Cuban thug who wasn't quite dead yet.
"Well I guess you were right for once, this wasn't as much of a suicide mission as I thought it would be," Artie replied turning up the radio, which was now playing "Spellbound" by Lacuna Coil.
"See, Donnie Cappelli don't bullshit no one!" his cousin said removing his balaclava and giving him a playful punch to the shoulder. "I'll be making sure to get you a cut on this one, that's another way I won't be bullshitting you."
"You'd better not be," Artie replied.
Due to the weight of the vehicle, its sluggish handling and the value of the cargo in the back, getting to Jansport took much longer than usual and Artie sighed in relief as Donnie pointed out the storage unit where it was to be delivered.
Waiting for Donnie to exit, the younger cousin carefully parked the truck inside the storage unit and then pulled down the shutter behind him.
"Alright, we've got that outta the way, now it's time to get paid!" Donnie announced pulling out his cell phone and dialing a number.
"Hey, it's me!" he shouted into the phone, "Listen, my cousin and I got your truck back and we just dropped it off at the storage unit. Whenever you're ready, we'll be over." Listening to what his friend had to say, he nodded and offered a few "uh huhs" and "yeahs" before switching the phone off.
"Alright, looks like we're gonna be heading over to the Burger Shot in Komojack Downs, but there is a catch," Donnie said looking sharply towards his cousin.
Artie groaned loudly at the mention of the word 'catch.'
"What now? Are we gonna have to hijack another vehicle for this guy?" he asked sagging his shoulders.
"Not exactly Cuz, my friend is a very 'shy' individual and is pretty iffy about meeting new people, so he says he'll be wanting to talk to me in the men's room alone," Donnie said before offering another sharp stare, "Don't even think about making any jokes about me 'turning tricks' in there either, or else I honestly don't give a shit if you're my cousin or not, I'll blow your fucking head off!"
"Okay, okay I get it! Sheesh, no reason to get all defensive man," Artie said raising his hands into the air protectively. "Christ, for a guy who's good at dishing it out he sure has a huge problem with having it thrown right back at him."
Fortunately for the cousins, Komojack Downs wasn't too far away and finding a Faggio scooter nearby, Artie hopped on and took control while Donnie climbed onto the back and they rode over to the aforementioned Burger Shot, where it wasn't too packed for this time of night.
"At least he chose a good place for us to meet," Donnie spoke, intoxicated by the smells of freshly cooked cheeseburgers and French fries.
"Dude, how the fuck can you look forward to this after what happened the last time we were out to eat together? Remember Well Stacked Pizza?" Artie asked with a shudder.
"Cuz, please just quit being a party pooper for once in your life," Donnie said motioning for the front counter. "Anyways, why don't you get yourself something to eat? I'm sure being cooped up in the pen all day long didn't give you time for a decent meal. Please, just relax. My friend is waiting in the bathroom as we speak and I should be in and out in no time."
With those words, Donnie disappeared around the corner leaving his younger cousin alone at the counter, where a short Mexican woman waited patiently for him to approach.
"The things you'll do when you go an entire day without a decent meal," he thought to himself, feeling his stomach suddenly growl as if on command at the thought of food.
"Hi there, I'll take one of your Heart Stoppers, a side order of Chicken Balls and a medium Secsi," he said pulling out a ten dollar bill.
"Would you like a complimentary Republican Space Ranger action figure to go with your meal?" the woman asked in heavily-accented English.
"No thank you," Artie said as he waited patiently for his meal, "Jeez, not only does she barely speak English, she can probably barely see too if she thinks I'm a fucking five year old."
His meal showed up and he made his way over to the nearest booth, collapsing into it and ravenously tearing away the wrapper, taking a huge bite out of his burger, which actually tasted pretty good. "I'd definitely better make my trips here few and far between…don't wanna end up like that fat bitch I saw over to Well Stacked when Donnie and I were there," he thought with a shudder.
Aside from Artie, the only other two people present were some guy with his nose buried in today's issue of 'The Daily Blowhard' and the other an Asian-American woman nodding her head to the beat of some tune playing on her My-Pod. It was a pretty quiet environment compared to the typical fast food joints and was truly surprised when he felt so relaxed in there, normally fearful he would find himself forced to make a mad dash towards the nearest bathroom and emptying out his stomach in some poorly-maintained toilet.
Before he could sink any further into the distractions brought upon by his delicious cheeseburger, Artie was snapped back to reality by his cousin collapsing into the seat across from him with an orange Sprunk in hand, reeking of marijuana smoke.
"Damn, were you getting high in there?" the younger Cappelli asked flaring his nostrils at the rancid stench.
"Nah, my friend loves his Mary Jane," Donnie replied before producing an off-white envelope, "Here's proof I wasn't."
Opening the envelope Artie counted a fresh stack of dollar bills, finding five thousand dollars waiting just for him.
"See Cuz, there are times I actually can be a man of my word," Donnie smiled.
"That's good, at least you're not a liar on the same level as Gino," Artie laughed, "Christ, knowing him he probably would've promised me five million dollars and instead give me a five with six zeroes drawn on it."
"No shit, no wonder he lives where he does and does what he does for a living," Donnie smirked.
"Hey, just remember I live under that roof too…for now at least," Artie replied, finding himself a little disturbed by such comments and leaning closer towards his cousin, "Haven't you ever thought about maybe lending him some money here and there? I don't know if you've really heard or not, but he's been in some trouble with the Redcoats recently, not to forget some big talking snake in the grass named Johnny Sneed, who I honestly think would tear his heart out and eat it right in front of him if given the chance."
Donnie looked at him strangely; as if it would take him time to contemplate his reply instead of giving him what should have been a simple yes or no answer.
"I've honestly tried reaching out to him, but he never replies. It's almost as if he's avoiding me or something. I'm a very busy man and I don't have the time to just go over and visit whenever I please."
Artie snickered at the reply, "Yeah, banging everything that moves."
Donnie didn't laugh and continued to stare at him, "Artie, I do a lot of things for my friends, stuff that often leaves me with little time for my own family. Call it selfish if you want, but I've gotta have a life too you know."
"Well blood is thicker than water, I'm sure that's something Uncle Leo must've tried to teach you when you were little," Artie replied before taking a bite out of a Chicken Ball, "I'm sure Gino would do the same for you if he had your kind of money."
Now it was Donnie's turn to snicker, "Are you fucking shitting me? If Gino had my kind of money he'd be fucking gambling it away in a Liberty City minute, which is the reason why he'll never have my kind of money."
"Well I guess you got me there," Artie said before his mind went back to the warehouse, "So did you get everybody there? No stragglers left unaccounted for?"
"What?" Donnie asked cocking an eyebrow at him, "Cuz, you were there. You saw how we turned that dump into a bloodbath. Of course everybody was dealt with."
"Including that gray-haired guy?" Artie asked.
"What gray-haired guy?" Donnie replied, "I never saw anybody matching that description there."
"Are you sure?" Artie asked, "When I was on the rooftop I looked into the warehouse and I saw some gray-haired guy in a brown leather jacket chatting with some of the guards. He definitely wasn't Cuban and he didn't look Italian either, so I wonder who the hell he could've been with."
"What the fuck?" Donnie muttered to himself, "I certainly didn't see anybody else around there aside from those wetbacks. If anybody else was there, they most likely got out before yours truly could rip them a new one."
A sly saxophone solo sounded and Donnie raised his cell phone, indicating he had just received a text message, "Speaking of which, I have to be on my way."
"Me too," Artie said before burping, the usual indicator he was done with a meal and went to empty his tray.
The two cousins made their way outside and Donnie hailed a cab, which to Artie's dismay was a Borgnine cab.
"Hey, thanks for your help Cuz. I truly appreciate it," the elder Cappelli said extending his hand.
"No problem," Artie said returning the handshake.
"Hey, you need a lift?" Donnie said waving him inside, "I can have him drop you off back at Camden Heights."
Just as Artie was about to reply, he looked over and saw a bright red Sabre GT parked across the street from him.
"Nah, you go on. I think I've already got a ride," the younger cousin replied.
"Sure thing," Donnie said climbing into the cab, but then peeked his head back out, "Oh and one more thing Artie stop by the gym every now and then! Seriously, you look like a fucking pansy!"
"Gee thanks Cuz, that's sure a nice thing to say to the very man who just helped your sorry ass out," Artie thought making his way over to the muscle car and smashing the driver's side window open with his elbow.
"I promised Zeke I'd make it up to him for getting his old car blown up. I think he'll definitely like this bad boy," the hired gun told himself as he hotwired the car and smiled as the engine roared with life.
"Time to roll," he told himself, switching the radio's station over to Rock of Rushmore 89.5, playing "Jet City Woman" by Queensryche.
"Time to roll," he said pulling away.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Author's Note: And so ends what turned out to be another speedy installment of "Rushmore City" and once again I let out the obligatory "Whoo!"
The internet café's name Cyber-Ing is a reference to the online sexual practice of cybering, again I was keeping in step with Rockstar's penchant for toilet humor.
"Rushmore's Most Wanted" is a parody of "America's Most Wanted" and Chris Walsh is a parody of Chris Hansen from "To Catch a Predator" and John Walsh from AMW.
The scene with all of the pedophiles killing themselves was inspired by the "Le Petit Tourette" episode of South Park where Cartman pretended to have Tourette's Syndrome and then went on that spoof of "To Catch a Predator" where all those pedophiles showed up and when they saw Chris Hansen they're all like "Oh my god, it's Chris Hansen!" and then started committing mass suicide.
Hell Within is a badass metalcore band from Massachusetts and I wanted to incorporate some of their music in here since I don't think they get enough attention. For those of you who don't know anything about them, they sound kind of like As I Lay Dying.
I also had to throw in the obligatory mockery of the Blue Brothers whom you had to escort back to Maisonette 9 in one of the Club Management missions from "The Ballad of Gay Tony." They're based upon the Jonas Brothers, so of course they HAD to be made fun of by yours truly.
Secsi is meant to be a spoof of Pepsi!
Well alright I think that's it for my post-chapter rant so until then read and review! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/