Chapter 20: Arms Breaker
It had been nearly two weeks since Artie Cappelli emerged victorious in that brutal eight man pit fight at the Bear Cage, sustaining several wounds in the process.
Thankfully Zeke and Randy managed to get him over to Lincoln General just in time for him to have his injuries treated and he was almost fully healed by this point. Still in need of money, he had spent most of his time driving around for Freeman Cabs and had somehow been talked into performing a few deliveries for Aunt Gracie, much to his dismay, yet thankfully nothing that had nearly gotten him killed.
"At least the old crone pays well for being the bipolar bitch that she is," Artie thought to himself as he pulled to a stop outside The Little Black Book.
It had been another long day at the cab depot and all he wanted to do right now was kick back and relax. Getting out of his Sentinel he made his way inside to find the place sparsely populated as usual.
"Hey Artie, what's up?" Zeke called out from behind the counter, having been in the middle of a conversation with Dal.
"Hey brother, how are things?" Dal called out before finishing his latest slice of pizza.
The two of them had been in the middle of sharing a pepperoni and sausage pizza, while the loud retching noises coming from the men's room indicated Pukin' Pete was in attendance.
"Have a seat," Zeke said waving Artie towards the bar, grabbing a piece of pizza and putting it on a paper plate just for him.
"Just another day in paradise as Gino would say," the hired gun replied taking the stool next to Dal and accepting a Dud Lite, "So what's up with you two?"
"Eh, we were just talking about that new Raindance chopper Dal's brother brought the other day," Zeke said taking a swig of his own beer.
"A helicopter, are you serious?" Artie asked looking dumbfounded towards the pit fighter.
"Yeah, my brother owns the airstrip over in Arbor Prairie," Dal replied.
"I know I didn't get to tell you this, but Dal here is a trained pilot. I've been on a few tours around the entire city with him in the past," Zeke spoke, motioning to a picture he had taken of Dickeyland at night hanging on the wall behind him.
"My brother's got an entire collection and I know how to fly them all," the fighter proudly proclaimed.
"What about her? What do you think Randy?" Artie heard Gino's voice asking from behind him.
Looking over his shoulder, the door to Gino's office was wide open and inside he saw his cousin attempting to work a laptop while Randy stood behind him trying to explain the basic functions of navigating a website.
"Uh dude, that lady is young enough to be your daughter," Randy said peering closely at the screen, "Trust me Mr. C, I don't think 'barely legal' is the route you should be going."
"What the hell is he doing now?" Artie asked looking back towards Zeke in disgust.
"Randy's trying to show him around Love-Meet, I guess he figures finding a woman will help distract him from some of his recent troubles," Zeke replied with a roll of his eyes.
"Jesus Christ, if he thinks Johnny Sneed and the Redcoats are already giving him enough trouble, then wait until he finds somebody and doesn't do something right in her eyes," Artie sighed, looking over to Dal who only shrugged his shoulders.
"Heh yeah, knowing him he'll be thinking he can take her to the fanciest places around town and next thing I know, bye bye paycheck," Zeke grunted.
"Yeah, I can just picture some pissed of psycho bitch storming this place when he isn't texting her every five seconds," Dal added.
"Knowing Gino, I wouldn't doubt that one bit," Artie said letting his forehead fall into his opened hand, "Christ, this should the absolute last thing he's thinking about right now."
"What about this lady right here?" Gino asked pointing excitedly towards the screen, "An attractive twenty-something brunette with a job, a car and a house!"
"Um yeah, she's also a gold digger who wants a rich man with little to no kin. I don't think you fall under that category," Randy replied.
"What about her?" Gino asked pointing to another unseen picture, "She likes older men!"
"Dude, she wants somebody old enough to be her grandfather so she can change his diapers in the morning. For some reason it really turns her on," Randy said, trying to suppress his urge to gag.
"And her?" Gino asked, pointing to another picture and darting his gaze back and forth between Randy and the screen at a manic pace.
"Recently released from the pen, she'd most likely shank you and steal your car," Randy said.
"Her?" Gino asked, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
"Judging by the location in which that picture was taken, I'm assuming she's probably some homeless crack addict who had to blow somebody just so she could use the camera to take that picture," Randy replied.
"Is there nobody in this city worth dating?" Gino whined, "Since when did honest businessmen like myself become public enemy number one around here?" the question drawing snickers from Artie, Zeke and Dal.
"Dude, you lied to your own cousin about owning some fancy nightclub, a penthouse apartment, a garage full of fancy sports cars, having all sorts of attractive women in your life and rolling around in piles of cold hard cash, if you can lie about that, then I don't think that exactly makes you 'honest.' Jesus Christ, how can I be certain you wouldn't pull that line of bullshit on some random woman off the internet?" Randy said crossing his arms.
"Hey kid, don't you fucking tell me how to live my life! I talk to people however I please!" Gino shot back.
"Uh yeah, let's see here…your display pic is one of your high school senior year pictures, which is over twenty years old I might add, you list yourself as being six feet five inches in height, twenty-seven years of age, owning a fancy nightclub, having a house out in Lakeview, owning your own yacht, owning an Infernus, a Cheetah and a Hotknife, having college degrees in marketing, small business management and psychology, being an avid marathon runner, wanting to have ten kids, and you state that your all-time favorite movie is 'The Journal' by Nicholai Marx," Randy said carefully nitpicking through all the little details in Gino's newly-established profile, "Yeah, you sound like the regular 'pillar of integrity' that I'd be looking to bring home to my parents if I were a chick. Trust me; as soon as any of these women meet you in person, you're done for!"
"Goddamn you! Artie should've left you to die back at that Cluckin' Bell shithole!" Gino screamed from the tiny confines.
Just as Artie finished his second slice of pizza, his phone began ringing and he reached for it to see Iceman was calling him.
"Hey what's up?" he asked after switching on the phone.
"Dude, where are you?" he asked from the other end.
"I'm over at Gino's, why?" Artie asked.
"Get your ass over to my shop, pronto. I just got a call from Colt and he says the Yardies have a big weapons shipment coming in and he wants it for himself. He's promised a big payday for this mission and also says we'll have some dependable backup along this time around," the weapons dealer reported.
"And just how the hell are they getting shipments into the city?" Artie asked, "I thought the feds had this entire city cordoned off from the outside world."
"Well like the saying goes 'money talks and bullshit walks' my friend. I'd assume they must've paid off some pretty big names to get anything over here at a time like this," Iceman chuckled bitterly.
"I should've figured that out already," Artie replied, remembering how Donnie was able to blackmail that police captain into setting him free.
"Yeah, well just get your ass over here before 8:30, or else Colt's gonna come over here wanting to blow my head off for 'being a pussy.' Don't worry about hardware, I can provide that for us."
"Alright, I'll be over in a little bit," Artie said before hanging up.
He noticed Zeke and Dal both looking over at him, "Sorry guys, but I'm gonna have to cut this short. Iceman needs help with an errand."
"Sure you guys don't need our help?" Dal asked.
"Nah, he just asked for me and that was it," Artie said shoving the phone into his pocket.
"Well that motherfucker," Dal said slamming his fist on the countertop, "Never lets us in on the fun. Well tell him we said hi anyway."
"Will do," Artie said making his way to the exit and looking down at his clothes. He was wearing a pair of black jeans with a green short-sleeved top, black and white sneakers and a blue denim jacket. Having just gotten off work and knowing things would likely get messy; he saw no reason for a change of clothes and proceeded to his car.
"Motherfucker!"
Some punk in an orange coat had a crowbar in hand and smashed the driver's side window open in an attempt to steal his car, setting off the alarm.
"Get your own wheels you fucking asshole!" Artie shouted running over and pulling the man away from his car, only to take an elbow to the jaw for his troubles.
"Finders keepers, losers weepers bitch!" the punk shouted drawing his arm back and going for another swing with his crowbar, missing as Artie moved out of the way and shattering his rear window.
"Goddamn you!" Artie shouted punching the man in the face, but the would-be carjacker continued to struggle with him before he was finally shoved to the ground.
Knowing he couldn't peacefully reason with the guy, the hired gun pulled out his Glock 22 and shot the man in the stomach, prompting a few bystanders who gathered across the street to scatter in all directions.
"Some people," Artie grunted sweeping away bits of shattered glass from his driver's seat and climbed inside. He switched on the radio and turned to Radio GX, which was playing "My Own Summer (Shove it)" by the Deftones.
The drive over to Iceman's shop in Stilsen didn't take too long and he pulled to a halt in front of North Pole Records, a small two story gray building with blue awning that had its tips shaped like icicles, similar to the designs on the gun runner's Patriot.
Inside the showroom was fairly spacious, lined with several rows of metal and hard rock CDs, as well as shelves filled with DVDs and other music-related merchandise, walls lined with t-shirts and posters advertising bands, and an entire section dedicated to musical instruments, including a red drum set on display in the shop's front window.
"Hey Artie," Sid waved from behind the cash register as a customer in a Vile Crud t-shirt stepped forth with an armful of CDs. In addition to the metal fan there were a few other customers present, including a blond-haired teenager who was testing out a brand new MTM Cobra.
"Hey is Iceman here by any chance?" Artie had to shout to the cashier.
"What?" Sid shouted back.
"Is Iceman here?" Artie shouted again, having to pull Sid closer to him.
"Yeah, he's in the office, go on in!" the cashier shouted.
"Thank you," Artie called out walking past the teenager, having to cover his ears until he reached the office.
He walked in to find Iceman grinding up marijuana leaves with a bong nearby.
"Whoa man, you really think you should be doing that before a mission?" the hired gun asked staring intently at the bong and the assortment of pipes lying nearby.
"Relax man, this is going to be my 'after party' for a job well done," the smuggler smirked rising to his feet, "Alright, I've got the stuff downstairs, follow me," he said motioning towards a door covered in miscellaneous signs.
Artie was led into the building's basement a wide open space that also served as Iceman's bedroom, living area, dining room, kitchen and billiards room all rolled into one, the bathroom and armory being the only separate rooms.
"Alright, I don't know if you're that well-educated when it comes to dealing with the Yardies or anything, but they're some crazy ass motherfuckers and believe me, they don't mess around," Iceman said leading Artie to a door fitted with an electronic keypad and typed in a numeric code before submitting his fingerprint and being rewarded with a pleasant sounding beep, "Alright, this is where I keep my mother load. Feast your eyes upon this!"
The hired gun was at a loss for words, it was a weapon lover's dream come true.
The room had been much larger than expected and was full of racks lined with numerous different types of shotguns ranging from Benelli to Remington to SPAS-12 to the Russian Saiga-12 variant, to various different kinds of assault rifles, sniper rifles, submachine guns and machine pistols. Littering the racks beneath the aforementioned weapons were hundreds of different variations of handguns, both regular caliber and the more powerful hand cannon types. Positioned carefully on the floor where any visitors would be able to safely walk around them were the heavier types of artillery such as heavy machineguns, grenade launchers, flame throwers and even a few RPG launchers.
Towards the back of the room were several workbenches littered with various types of explosives and melee weapons such as brass knuckles, machetes, swords and even a chainsaw covered in dried blood.
In addition, there was also a multitude of important items such as first-aid kids, jars of gunpowder, thermal and night vision goggles, a mine detector, a camera scrambler, and various types of scopes that could be fitted to practically any firearm present. Lining the walls were plenty of Kevlar vests and different variations of camouflage BDUs, like he was in some kind of store.
To put it bluntly, there had been enough guns and ammo in this single room for Iceman to have started up his own criminal empire had he wished.
"God fucking damn Iceman, I knew you had a lot of guns, but fuck man seriously! You must have more weapons than God himself!" Artie called out in astonishment.
"You're too kind my friend," the gun runner smiled before returning to a more serious tone, "Alright, like I said this is the Yardies we're dealing with here so you have to be fucking stocked to the max when dealing with those crazy motherfuckers, regardless if you have backup or not. You give them an inch; they'll be chopping off your dick with a machete before you can even blink."
"What else do you know about these guys? Any idea who they're doing business with or where they hang out?" Artie asked approaching a rack and taking down a Colt M4A1 carbine assault rifle, testing the sights and the grip in his hands. He then found an M-203 grenade launcher nearby and attached it beneath the barrel.
"Well, aside from the fact that they're all bat shit crazy, they're on friendly terms with the Redcoats and Hellcats," Iceman explained picking up an XM8 assault rifle and slapping a fresh clip into it before grabbing an M-203 grenade launcher of his own, "They've also got connections to the Caribbean gangs up in Liberty City and are still thought to be on friendly terms with the Colombian Cartel."
"Yeah, I had a few run-ins with those fucks up in Liberty too," Artie replied grabbing a USAS-12 assault shotgun and scooped up a few explosive rounds for it.
"The big thing is smuggling," Icemand added as he picked up a Dao-12 Street Sweeper shotgun and loaded a fresh magazine, "They started out small, smuggling jewels, but then they forged an alliance with the Redcoats and Hellcats and graduated to smuggling guns, drugs and even people. They're rumored to have a drug farm somewhere in Roosevelt Hills. I don't know for sure and quite frankly, nobody else does either."
"Any idea who their leader is?" Artie inquired as he found a CZ 75 fully automatic and picked up a few clips for it.
"Some schmuck named King Charlie," Iceman said grabbing a cloth and shining his trusty Colt Anaconda, "A fucking nutcase who just kills anybody at random, hell there's even a rumor that he once shot a waiter between the eyes because his steak was undercooked. As for the cook himself, supposedly he was strung up on a meat hook, gutted with a machete and then tossed into a vat with a very hungry shark in it."
"Man, he sounds like quite the sick fucker if there ever was one," Artie replied as he slipped on a Kevlar vest and then grabbed a bandolier of M67 fragmentation grenades. "Any idea where he lives or frequents?"
"The Yardies dominate Little Jamaica, not too far from Harbor," Iceman said as he pulled on a Kevlar vest of his own and then hefted up an HK69A1 grenade launcher, slipping on a bandolier of 40mm cartridges. "They have quite a few shops as their fronts and nobody knows where his exact hideout is. Quite frankly, people are probably too scared to ask."
"Can't say that I blame them, he sounds fucking crazy," Artie replied taking a large combat knife and placing a holster around his shin for it. "I'm surprised anybody can follow a maniac like him," he said sliding the knife into place. "Then again, I'm one to talk. I've been following some crazy fuckers around here too."
"People are fucked up," Iceman said picking up a machete, "especially his followers. He gets them so doped up they're not afraid of anything. If he told them to charge head on at a platoon of N.O.O.S.E. agents armed with nothing but some pointy sticks you can bet damn sure they'd do it without hesitation."
Iceman's cell phone rang and he picked it up, "Hey Colt, we're on our way!" he spoke, listening to some harsh ranting from the other side before replying, "Yes I'm bringing the guido along too and you have my word he won't fuck up."
Artie glared at his friend upon hearing him utter the derogatory term directed at Italian-Americans and listened to him continue his chat.
"Yes, we'll be over in a few minutes, don't get your ass in a fucking uproar!" Iceman replied before switching his phone off, "Alright, we'd better get going. Colt and his boys are starting to get restless."
The two heavily-armed men made their way back upstairs and into the alley where Iceman's Patriot awaited them.
"What the hell was that down there? That 'Yes I'm bringing the guido along' crap?" Artie demanded as they pulled out into traffic.
"To be completely honest with you, the guys we're going to be working with aren't too fond of Italians," the gun runner replied, "They're not exactly on the best of terms with the Mafia around here, so basically they're distrusting of all Italians in general."
"Bastards," the hired gun spat as Iceman switched the radio over to Rock of Rushmore 89.5, which was playing "Overkill" by Motorhead.
"I don't think I'd say that right to their faces. They won't hesitate to chain you up to the back of their motorcycles and drag you along a gravel road," Iceman said as they pulled up to Colt's Ammu-Nation, where a variety of motorcycles were parked out front.
"Just act natural and let me do all the talking," Iceman said as they made their way inside, "Try to restrain yourself if they knock Italians in front of you."
"Easier said than done," Artie replied as Iceman approached the register, which was manned by a blonde-haired woman in an olive drab tanktop. There were still the pops of various firearms coming from the shooting range, suggesting the shop was still fairly populated for this time of night.
"Colt said you guys would be coming. He's in the back," the woman said motioning towards the door labeled 'No Admittance. Trespassers Will Be Shot. Survivors Will Be Shot Again.'
Opening the aforementioned door, the two men were blown backwards by the sonic shockwave of heavy metal, this time being "Slaughter of the Soul" by At the Gates.
Inside they found an entire group of grungy, heavily-tattooed men dressed like stereotypical bikers getting drunk and tossing their empty beer bottles all over the place. Near the keg at the center of the room Colt was seen conversing with a tall baldheaded man with a nasty scar running down the right side of his face and an X-shaped scar on his left cheek. He was wearing a black leather jacket that had a large design on the back of a winged demon carrying a curved sword, completed by text identifying him as a member of the Luciferian Brotherhood. A patch on the front of his jacket listed his rank as that of 'President.'
"There he is," Colt called out making his way over to Iceman, "This is the guy I told you about," the proprietor said motioning towards the smuggler, "and his friend," he spoke snidely towards Artie.
"Pleased to meet you," the biker boomed, "They call me Hack," he said shaking hands with both Iceman and Artie.
"They call me Iceman," the gun runner said, "and this is my friend Artie Cappelli."
"A guinea, huh?" spoke a redheaded man with a braided goatee. "Last time we did business with your kind, three of our brothers got jacked from behind and another was left a cripple for the rest of life."
Another member, this one with shoulder-length sandy blond hair then stepped up and pushed his hair aside to show a jagged scar along his neck, "You see that scar right there? One of your greaseball brothers did that trying to jack my bike!"
The other bikers began to gather around, all of them glaring daggers upon Artie and looking like they were ready to pound him into dust until Iceman intervened.
"Hey, hey easy there people! He's here to help!" Iceman said stepping in front of the hitman with his hands raised, "Sure, he's a Dago and everything, but he can get the job done. Trust me boys, I've seen him in action!"
"We've seen a lot of his kind in action," spoke a Hispanic man with his head shaved, "They're usually pointing a gun in our direction!"
"He's here to help," Iceman repeated, "If for some reason he stabs us in the back, then you can have my head on a pike for all I care!"
"Okay boys, I think we're gonna have to put the arguments over the lightweight aside and get down to business," Colt called out making his way over towards a map of Lincoln Island and pointing towards the Harbor area.
"We've received a report that those Yardie bastards are about to receive a major weapons shipment down at the Harbor district and judging by what we've heard, it should be arriving in about an hour," Colt explained.
"I wonder whose cock they had to suck to get anything into this city the way the Gestapo is coming down on anything that flies or floats right now," the blond-haired biker spat, arousing a few chuckles from his comrades.
Colt ignored the man's comment and continued, "Obviously the Yardies know who you guys are and if they saw you coming at them on your hogs, they'd know what was up and likely mop the floor with you guys-," he continued, inviting a few disbelieving stares and scoffs from the macho bikers.
"You really doubt us that much Colt?" asked a bulky man with an Amish-like beard, "Christ, we've survived God knows how many battles with the commies, chinks and guineas around here," he said, looking towards Artie as he uttered the last slur.
"-which is why you're all going to pile into one large truck to get the drop on them," Artie finished, inviting a few groans from the bikers.
"Man, looks like that new paint job was all for nothing," groaned a shorter man with his bald head covered in tattoos.
"Christ, you might as well cut our dicks off while you're at it since you're on such a fucking power trip right now," called out another biker, this one wearing a bandana over his head with a skull that was belching flames.
Colt ignored their complaints and continued forth, "I have no idea how many trucks they're gonna have down there, but I do know one of their fronts is the Well Hung meat packing plant. Look for any trucks that have that logo on them and make sure that none of them explodes," he finished.
"Well you heard the man, let's move out!" Hack ordered and his subordinates began hooting and hollering wildly with chants of "Luciferians 'Til Death!"
Colt then approached Artie and tossed him a set of keys, "Time to earn your keep, wop!"
Artie growled angrily and furrowed his brow towards the gunsmith, stopping when Iceman placed a hand on his shoulder.
"C'mon, let's get moving!" the smuggler said leading him outside.
The Luciferian bikers, twenty of them altogether, piled into the back of a Steed box truck advertising 'The Daily Blowhard,' hooting and hollering like native savages about to rush into battle.
"You sure it's a good idea letting a Guido drive?" one of the bikers called out, again forcing Iceman to hold Artie back and make sure he didn't do something stupid.
"Just ignore his stupid ass and get in the truck," Iceman said closing the truck's back doors and then climbing into the front passenger seat.
"The nerve of these goons," Artie spat as he climbed into the driver's seat and started up the truck.
"That's the Luciferians for you. You're shit to them until you earn their respect," Iceman said switching on 94.3 CSKD, which was currently playing "Henchmen Ride" by Testament, a good 'rushing into battle' song.
"Well they'd better learn to buck up soon, or else I will have to start shooting," Artie grunted, until he heard a sound he had hoped he wouldn't.
"Oh fuck!" the hired gun grunted as he saw a police cruiser charging towards him from behind.
Iceman saw the car too and readied his pistol, "Just keep calm and be ready to fight if you have to," he said as Artie pulled the truck to the side of the road.
Fortunately, the cops didn't appear interested in them and sped past with no signs of slowing down.
"Fuck that was close," Artie said pulling the truck back into traffic.
With that temporary distraction out of the way, the hired gun was able to drive over to the Harbor district with a clear mind.
He didn't have much farther to go and from a distance he could see a large freighter having just docked. Parked around he saw several Huntley Sport SUVs with green, yellow and black paint schemes, as well as a few of those customized Lobos he had seen outside the leather goods store on the night he and Donnie had been involved in the shootout at Hell's Belles.
Surprisingly, he also spotted several red and white Clovers and Burritos driven by the Redcoats and those tan Dukes with the flame decals driven by the Hellcats, along with a few Slamvans that had a similar color scheme.
"Shit, the Redcoats and the Hellcats are here too!" Artie announced.
"No turning back," Iceman said cocking his assault rifle, "Besides, more to kill anyway."
Artie pulled the Steed to a halt near the Bitch n' Dog Food factory adjoining the Well Hung building and killed the engine. Having sensed the vehicle stopping, the cargo doors came flying open and one by one the Luciferians piled out of the truck.
"Where the fuck are those Yardie bastards?" one of the bikers called out, waving his Colt M4 Carbine back and forth like he was expecting somebody to pop out of the shadows.
"They're here and they're not alone," Iceman announced, "We're parking here so your crazy asses don't get shot down right away."
"Let's move!" Hack ordered pulling the bolt back on his M4 and creeping along the factory exterior.
Moving in formation with the group, Artie was able to make out four Boxville trucks bearing the Well Hung logo on their sides, as well as a combat vehicle bearing a camouflage paintjob with a mounted mini-gun on top, which he recognized as one of those Scorpion urban combat vehicles advertised in that contest at Ammu-Nation.
They kept moving until they were a few feet away from the gathered gangsters and had taken cover behind various objects.
"Hey, you think we're close enough?" Hack suddenly asked Iceman.
"I'd say we are," the smuggler replied.
"Good," the Luciferian president replied before stepping out and opening fire, "Take 'em down brothers!"
On cue the other bikers began firing upon their adversaries, quickly cutting down a few rival gang members that had been close by.
"L.B.M.C. bitches!" the Hispanic member shouted opening fire with his Ruger AC556F.
"Get does bumbleclods!" a Jamaican-accented voice shouted and altogether Yardies, Redcoats and Hellcats returned fire in unison, dropping one of the Luciferians with six shots to the chest.
Artie and one of the Luciferians had taken cover behind a large metal crate, where they were being fired upon from above by both a Yardie and a Redcoat.
"Hope you're a better shot than what Iceman makes you out to be Guido," the biker grunted as he ejected an empty clip from his carbine and stood up to fire, only to be dropped by a round to the forehead, splattering his brains all over the asphalt.
"Son of a bitch," Artie muttered taking cover behind the crate and then popping up to unleash a volley upon his attackers, hitting the Redcoat in the chest and sending him tumbling over the railing and landing on the edge of a dumpster with a sickly crack.
The Yardie meanwhile had run out of ammo for his current clip and tried to run for an area with more cover, but Artie was onto him and fired a flurry of hot lead that followed the Caribbean gangster along the brick wall until one of the rounds tore through the man's shoulder and sent him falling head first into a steel pillar, surely breaking his neck.
Bullets flew back and forth at a manic pace and several rival gang members had already fallen, but there had proven to be more than expected and within seconds, two more Luciferians fell from automatic fire.
"You fuckers will pay for that!" Hack screamed firing wildly at his enemies, taking down a Yardie that had attempted to take cover behind one of the Hellcats' Dukes. He continued firing away until smoke began shooting out from beneath the bullet-riddled hood and was then followed by flames, which would swallow the entire car until it exploded into a reddish-orange fireball that incinerated a Hellcat who hadn't been fast enough and sent shrapnel flying that injured several more.
"Take that you inbred fuckers!" he laughed maniacally firing a barrage that dropped both a Redcoat and a Hellcat, the latter firing his AK-47 into the air before hitting the pavement.
Artie saw the Dukes explode and then noticed how a few rival gangsters had taken cover behind a Slamvan belonging to the Hellcats. Pumping his grenade launcher, he fired a 40mm grenade towards the tan-colored vehicle. As soon as it connected, it exploded into a ball of white hot fury, killing those who thought it could provide some form of safety.
The revving of an engine sounded and the hired gun looked to see one of the Yardies managed to get behind the wheel of a Huntley Sport in all the madness and was now charging towards him and his companions.
"Incoming!" one of the Luciferians called out and the bikers began firing away at the bulky vehicle, riddling its exterior with hundreds of rounds and shattering the front windshield. The driver was killed by a round to the face, but the SUV continued its forward charge and plowed head on into a stack of wooden crates some of them had been hiding behind and exploded, killing one of the bikers.
"Ya' gonna be sorry white trash!" one of the Yardies shouted hefting an RPG-7 launcher onto his shoulder.
"Shit!" Artie blurted out and began firing wildly towards the Jamaican gangster until he struck the man in the throat, causing his rocket to fly backwards into the freighter. A series of massive explosions soon followed and within seconds the ship had splintered into fragments of twisted metal.
"Fuck, no doubt the pigs will be converging upon this place like the plague soon enough," the errand boy thought to himself as he took careful aim to drop another Hellcat with a single round to the head.
Pumping his grenade launcher a second time, he fired a round at one of the Lobos, the vehicle's charred husk launching into the air and landing on one of the Redcoats' Clovers.
By now Iceman and the Luciferians were slowly pushing their way towards the waiting Boxvilles, systematically cutting down the rival gang members standing in their way.
"Eat this and die!" one of the Redcoats called out as he leapt into the open and tossed a Molotov cocktail at two of the bikers, swallowing up both men in a wall of fire neither would survive.
The madman saw another Luciferian coming at him with a Remington Spartan 100 sawn-off shotgun and reached for his sidearm, only to have his right arm blown off beneath the elbow.
"Fuck yeah!" the biker laughed until another Redcoat and a Hellcat charged at him jointly.
Firing away, the biker had managed to drop the Hellcat with a blast to the stomach, but was hit in the arm by a round from the Redcoat's Beretta M9.
Artie saw the man's predicament and quickly dropped his assailant with a salvo of hot lead to the chest and stomach before his clip ran dry. With the bad guys taken care of he ran over to assist the wounded biker.
"Ugh…don't worry about me bro, just get those trucks out of here," the man winced as he was taken under the arm.
"Don't worry, we're gonna get you out of here!" Artie shouted back over the repeated pops of automatic fire before managing to get the man safely hidden behind one of the buildings. "Just stick tight and we'll be back for you!"
With no time to reload his rifle, the hired gun reached for his USAS-12 assault shotgun and fired an explosive round that tore through the groin of a Yardie, ensuring the man would die a slow, painful death. Firing another round, he walloped the side of a Clover one of the Hellcats had taken cover behind and kept firing until the muscle car was in flames.
"No escape!" Artie shouted as he finally took the man out with an explosive round to the back.
He continued firing until he bumped into somebody and suddenly jumped, whirling around with his gun raised.
"Whoa, take it easy Artie, it's just me!" Iceman called out.
"Shit sorry about that," the hired gun replied before firing off more explosive rounds.
"Save it for later!" the gun runner shouted back as he launched the final grenade from his rifle-mounted launcher, sending it near some red flammable barrels and creating another explosion that sent one of the SUVs flipping onto its side and crushing two more Yardies.
"We're getting closer," Iceman shouted withdrawing the Street Sweeper and tearing through another one of the Huntleys with its high-powered rounds, taking out a cowardly Redcoat that was attempting to flee the scene.
Artie continued firing away until he was hit in the chest by a barrage of rounds from a Hellcat's Glock 22, forcing him to take cover behind a bullet-riddled Slamvan that had another shot up Hellcat hanging from the passenger's seat. Quickly withdrawing the M4A1, he slapped in a fresh clip and popped out to fire a three shot burst, obliterating his attacker's face.
Two more Hellcats appeared to take their fallen comrade's place, firing upon him with their own M4 Carbines.
Taking cover behind another large metal crate, the hired gun unclipped a fragmentation grenade and blindly tossed it behind him. A collective "Oh shit" told him he would temporarily have the gangbangers off his tail. Peeking his head out, he watched as one of them rushed straight into the crosshairs of another waiting Luciferian, just before the man was sent airborne by another explosion.
"Ha ha, gotcha' now me brudda!" a voice called out from above and turned to see a Yardie charging at him with a trademark machete in hand.
Acting on instinct, the Italian-American ducked a swipe from his attacker, causing the blade to clang off the crate's metallic surface and temporarily stun the man. With his foe left wide open, he drove the rifle's stock into the man's side and then kicked him backwards and shooting him point blank in the face before he could hit the ground, spraying some of the Yardie's blood, bone fragments and sinew onto him.
"Good thing I didn't wear some newer clothes after all," he thought looking over to Iceman, who was in the process of beheading another Yardie that had gotten too close for comfort.
Ahead of him, a Luciferian was shot in the chest repeatedly, causing him to fall backward and strike his head against the brick wall of a nearby warehouse, a crimson steak following him all the way down as he collapsed to the pavement. Yet another would fall after taking a shotgun blast to the chest, sending him falling backwards onto the hood of a Hellcat Dukes. Both of their murderers would fall after taking a barrage from Hack's carbine.
"Come on you fucking pieces of shit! There's more where that came from!" the Brotherhood's president yelled like a man possessed, only allowing a blink as a 9mm round grazed his side.
Growling in reply, Hack fired a 40mm round from his mounted grenade launcher and caught the man who shot him square in the chest, never giving his attacker a chance to scream as he was reduced to a pile of ragged strips and bloodied meat.
"Alright, c'mon we're at the trucks," Iceman called out taking cover behind the Scorpion and gunning down the Yardies and Redcoats standing guard.
"You heard the man, let's get the fuck outta here!" Hack shouted as he tried rushing for one of the Boxvilles, but was forced to take cover as a Molotov cocktail was tossed in his direction, igniting the corpse of an already dead Redcoat. One of the remaining Luciferians was on hand to drop the mad bomber.
"Hack, c'mon!" Iceman called out to the club president as he climbed into the Scorpion's driver's seat and started it up.
The Brotherhood's leader was about to make his move when he suddenly found himself bathed in a bright light. Looking up, he found a familiar blue and white helicopter fluttering overhead and instantly his heart sank.
"R.C.P.D., drop your weapons and surrender at once!"
Artie felt his blood chill as the blue and white helicopter came into view and he could hear the sirens in the distance.
"Fuck," was all he could mutter before one of the Luciferians appeared alongside of him.
"C'mon, we've gotta get go-" was all the man could get out before an officer opened fire upon them, cutting the man down in a high velocity barrage.
Artie bolted towards the Boxvilles, only to be cut off by a camouflaged vehicle speeding in front of him.
"Quick Artie, get inside now!" Iceman shouted from the driver's seat. Hack was with him in the passenger seat scrambling to reload his M4 carbine.
Doing as he was told, the hired gun climbed into the backseat and looked out the window to see the remaining Brotherhood members scrambling for the now unguarded Boxvilles.
"Alright, let's move!" Hack shouted.
"Wait, we've got one of your guys left behind one of the warehouses," Artie called out pointing to the building he had hidden the one biker behind, "He's wounded and he needs help!"
"I'm on it," Iceman said hitting the gas and speeding towards the building, running over a few of the surviving Redcoats and Hellcats who had been firing away at them.
Eventually the vehicle would reach the building where the wounded Luciferian had been hidden.
"Quick, get in!" Artie shouted throwing the door open.
The wounded biker staggered towards the Scorpion and threw himself into the backseat, having to be pulled in by Artie. Looking out the back window he saw the four Boxville vans pulling up behind them. "Alright you can fucking move now!" he screamed gripping his rifle for dear life.
Iceman pounded the gas pedal to the floor as N.O.O.S.E. Enforcers and Patriots came speeding into view, narrowly missing them as they charged head on. Fortunately, they also seemed to focus on the few rival gang members left who were attempting to flee the scene, chasing after some Redcoat Clovers that had taken off towards the east and a Yardie-owned Huntley Sport charging for the west.
"Shit, they're going after the vans too," Hack shouted as he watched a Patriot slam into the side of a Boxville, its driver barely regaining control as he attempted to flee.
"I'll hold them off!" Artie shouted and opened the hatch that would take him to the mounted mini-gun.
Climbing into the turret, he took aim upon a police cruiser that had been harassing another Boxville, watching as its passenger struggled to return fire with the pursuing officers.
Depressing the trigger, Artie listened in anticipation as the gun whirred to life before a barrage of high-powered rounds tore apart the squad car, killing both the driver and passenger, thus enabling the Boxville to pass without incident.
The vehicle suddenly rocked beneath him and he looked down to see a Patriot had bypassed the other vehicles to ram them.
"Pull over or we will open fire!" the officer shouted over his microphone.
"I think not pig!" Artie shouted back and fired down into the vehicle's engine until flames erupted from beneath the hood, forcing both officers to bail.
"Assholes," he grumbled to himself as one of the officers landed smack dab in the middle of the road, only to be run over by the closest Boxville.
As quickly as the Patriot had been destroyed, there was already another squad car on hand to attack the fleeing Boxville.
Depressing the trigger again, the mini-gun's rounds tore through the cruiser's windshield like a piece of paper and shredded the driver to pieces. It didn't end there as Artie tore through the car until it ignited.
"Ha ha motherfuckers!" he shouted, until he was blinded by the spotlight of a pursuing Maverick.
"Cease and desist immediately!" the officer's voice boomed over the horizon.
Artie suddenly remembered the advertisement in Colt's shop that this vehicle came equipped with a rocket launcher.
"Somebody will cease alright," he thought as he began operating the rocket launcher's console and took aim, using the copter's heat signature to lock on.
"Say goodbye!" he shouted and pushed the trigger, sending a missile flying towards the chopper, giving its pilot and crew no time to dodge.
The projectile connected with a deafening explosion and the brilliant flash forced Artie to temporarily shield his eyes.
"Hell yeah, now that's what I'm talking about!" Iceman laughed excitedly.
"Oh shit, look out!" the wounded biker suddenly shouted.
Up ahead the N.O.O.S.E. forces had formed a barricade spanning the entire width of the small bridge they were about to cross.
"Artie, you know what to do!" Iceman shouted, continuing at his current speed.
"Roger that!" the hired gun shouted back spinning the turret around and opening fire upon the waiting Patriots, gunning down most of the officers surrounding them. He kept the trigger down until one of the bulky SUVs exploded, creating a chain reaction that would swallow up the others positioned next to it. Those who hadn't been killed by the bullets surely would have been slaughtered by the following explosions.
"Hell fucking yeah!" Hack whooped excitedly, "Perhaps this kid isn't so bad after all," he said to Iceman.
Seeing the wall of fire they were fast approaching, Artie quickly climbed back down into the bullet and fireproof Scorpion, wincing as Iceman plowed through the flames. Looking out the back window he watched as the four Boxvilles followed suit, their exteriors blackened slightly by the flames, a miracle they didn't get through to the cargo they carried inside, which would have produced disastrous results.
"Alright, let's take this shit home!" Iceman said flooring the gas pedal, speeding past a few police cruisers that certainly wouldn't be able to catch up to them and plowing through Habanero caught in the crossfire.
The convoy of vehicles proceeded back to the Stilsen district while being pursued by the cops until it reached a narrow street and one of the surviving Luciferians came up with an idea.
"Hey Bucky, why don't you let some of those pigs have it! I'm sure Colt won't mind us losing one of the boxes," called out the driver of the last Boxville, the scarred blond-haired man who had accosted Artie earlier on.
"You got it," replied Bucky, the redheaded man with the braided goatee.
Seeing a box labeled as containing explosives, the Brotherhood biker kicked open one of the back doors and pulled the pin on a grenade, shoving the box full of explosives at a pursuing police cruiser, connecting with a massive boom that obliterated the car into nothing and creating a fiery roadblock on the narrow passage.
"Ha ha ha, fuckin' yeah! Luciferians baby!" Bucky hollered before pulling the door shut behind him.
"Alright, we're almost to home plate," Iceman called out, ramming head on into a Hakumai sedan as he ran a red light, Hack raising his middle finger to the driver as they sped past.
Within seconds the convoy was approaching the familiar building with the American flag paint scheme and large model revolver over its front door. At last they had arrived and took a left turn into the side alley.
"Man, what a rush!" Iceman gasped climbing out of the Scorpion's driver seat, "Not every day you get that much action."
He then saw Hack coming and motioned towards Artie, "See, I told you this crazy motherfucker could get the job done!"
The Luciferian president again looked Artie up and down before breaking into a hearty laugh, "For once I stand corrected, maybe you might actually have some use after all!"
"Yeah, you actually weren't half bad back there," Bucky said stepping into view, "for being a Guido and everything."
"Seriously, could you please stop with all the Italian insults for once?" Artie asked the redheaded man, the patch on his jacket identifying him as a Sergeant-at-Arms. "Christ, if I wasn't there to help you out, none of you probably would've come back alive."
"He's right, I trust him," said the biker who had been wounded in the gunfight, identified by his patch as 'Smitty.' The bandana once covering his head was now being used as a crude bandage wrapped around his arm.
"Ooh, got yourself a new boyfriend already, huh Smitty?" the Hispanic biker laughed, his patch identifying him as 'Rojo.'
Out of the twenty Luciferians who had initially set out on the mission, only nine had come back alive, all of them bathed in the blood of friend and foe alike.
"Pretty strong statement you're making there pal," the scarred blond-haired man spoke, his patch revealing him as 'Turk.'
"Hey easy there," Hack said stepping in between the two men, "He hasn't tried any funny shit just yet," he said before returning his attention to Artie, "As far as I'm concerned, he's innocent until proven guilty," his tone lowering and his gaze becoming threatening.
The shop's back door opened and Colt emerged with two packs of beer in hand, "About time you crazy bastards got your asses back here!" he called out and then looked around to see there were only nine bikers present.
"What happened to the rest of you," he asked, only to be cut off by Hack.
"They didn't make it," the leader mournfully reported as he approached his friend and pulled a bottle out of the container before turning to address his followers.
"Brothers, once again we have triumphed, but it is a bittersweet victory," the President announced as his surviving followers stood around him, "We wasted a lot of rancid motherfuckers, but in the process lost eleven of our own.
"Eleven brothers lost in the heat of battle, good men who rode hard, partied hard, lived hard and were scared of absolutely jack shit!" Hack proclaimed, popping the cap off his bottle, "The code of the Luciferian Brotherhood dictates that we do not sit back idly and take such transgressions without retaliation. As long as there are Redcoats, Hellcats, Yardies and anybody else who spills the blood of a brother, we will track them and anybody associated with them down and unleash the mightiest, bloodiest vengeance until they are no more!"
"Hell yeah!" the bikers cried in unison.
"Now, for our lost brothers! May they forever ride freely on the highways of the afterlife and fucking run down anybody who dares stand in their way!" Hack roared as he tilted his head back and poured the cold liquid down his throat, everybody else, including Artie, Iceman and Colt, following suit until their bottles were emptied and smashed on the ground.
Artie watched as the Luciferians quickly got to work unloading the boxes from the backs of the trucks, when he was suddenly grabbed by the shoulder.
"Alright kid, for once you do something right," Colt said presenting him with a briefcase, "Twenty-thousand dollars for a job well done!"
The hired gun gasped at the dollar amount, not expecting the gunsmith to be carrying around that kind of money, let alone to pay him, Iceman and the surviving bikers.
"Okay, you've done your keep now you two rung along!" Colt said pressing the two forth, "I'll be calling you next time I need your help!" he said to Iceman before the two of them disappeared from sight.
"Hey man, thanks for coming along. You really showed those bastards back there," Iceman said tapping fists with Artie.
"Eh, I do what I can. Maybe now those Luciferians will show some goddamned respect, maybe Colt too next time I go to his store," the Italian-American said before stopping himself, "Oh yeah that's right, why should I bother with him when I've got you around to sell me guns out of your trunk," he laughed as they approached Iceman's Patriot.
"Can't go wrong with that logic there," Iceman chuckled as they climbed inside.
"I must be your only client then with all the merchandise you've got down in your personal armory. Jesus Fucking Christ, I'm surprised Colt can be as ballsy as he is when he doesn't have jack shit on your stash," Artie laughed as his phone started ringing.
It was Zeke and he switched on the phone, "Hey man, what's up?"
"Dude, believe it or not, Gino's got a hot date for tomorrow and he's given me the day off so he can have the bar all to himself when she comes over."
Artie's jaw dropped at the mention, "You're fucking kidding me! Gino of all people has a date? Are you sure he's not lying to you?"
"Dude, he gave me a fucking day off, why should I be one to ask questions?" Zeke half-shouted from the other end, "Since I've got the day off I was wondering if you wanted to hang out tomorrow?"
"Hmm, I don't think I've got anything planned, why not?" Artie replied.
"Good, I was figuring we could check out the Gazangas over in Blue Hook, you know have some wings, have some beers, check out the ladies in their tight little red shorts, you know the drill," Zeke giggled at the last part.
"Sounds like fun man, I've never been to a Gazangas, but I've heard their wings are the best."
"Dude, are you fucking gay or something? For one, you've never been to a Gazangas and two, all you can think about is their wings? What the fuck man? Since when did you go all Queens District on me?" Zeke shouted from the other end.
"Okay, you're starting to sound like Donnie now. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing," Artie said looking over to Iceman.
"Whatever man, guess it's settled then. I'll pick you up tomorrow around noonish."
"Sounds like a plan. Talk to you later," Artie said switching off the phone.
"Ooh, Romeo's got himself a 'man date' and attempt to convince the world they're not a couple of queens by going to Gazangas, when you're probably really heading for Golden Boys," Iceman laughed.
"Fuck you!" Artie retorted.
"Maybe I should turn on Total 101.9, hell I'll call up and request Owl City's 'Fireflies' just for your flaming ass!" Iceman laughed.
"Fuck you!" Artie repeated, "In a non-sexual way that is!"
"Sure thing Liberace," Iceman said pulling to a stop next to his friend's Sentinel, "I'll talk to you later man, keep in touch!"
"Yeah, see you later," the hired gun waved as he climbed into his car and started for home.
"I'm gonna have to get these windows fixed sometime later."
XXXXXXXXXXXXX
Author's Note: And so ends yet another very action packed installment of "Rushmore City!"
This was another action sequence inspired by this one time I played "Saints Row 2," during a takeover mission in which I had to take over the harbor where the Sons of Samedi were stuffing fish with their 'Loa Dust' and then I had to blow up the freighter that was docked there, well the last time I played through this mission I ended up creating this huge shootout which involved members of the Sons of Samedi, a bunch of pimps and the Stilwater Police Department all going at it, leaving me to largely go about my mission unscathed, blasting only those who crossed my path. It was pretty fun and I wanted to try conveying that sense of action into this chapter.
You know how in the chapter where he makes his very first appearance, I explain that I could see Gino being physically inspired by that Doc McGhee guy who managed K.I.S.S. and Motley Crue? Strike that out, there has been a little change in that regard.
The more and more I thought about it, especially with the way Gino goes off on Randy in this chapter, I could seriously picture Gino being physically inspired by Steven Chapman, the psychopathic grocery store manager from "Dead Rising."
When I thought more and more about his hairstyle and his physical build, it instantly made me think of Steven from "Dead Rising," at least a shorter version of the guy. Now all Gino needs is a shopping cart with a whole shitload of sharp objects strapped to it and he's ready to go! Then after that, he can scream "Clean up! Register 6!" before he dies.
"The Journal" by Nicholai Marx listed in Gino's Love-Meet profile is a spoof of "The Notebook" by Nicholas Sparks.
The Cobra guitar by MTM (Metallic Tune Makers) being played by that teenager in Iceman's record store is supposed to be a spoof of the Viper by ESP (Electric Sound Products), a popular brand of guitar in metal music.
The Scorpion I would say is a somewhat original creation of mine. Inspiration-wise, I would say it is heavily inspired by the special militaristic Bulldog design from "Saints Row 2" with the camouflage paintjob that is outfitted with a machinegun turret, which you unlock after the final mission against the Sons of Samedi when you defeat The General. I would also say it is somewhat based around the Warthog design from "Twisted Metal 2," with the reference to the built-in rocket launcher.
For those of you who may not remember, the Queens district Zeke makes reference to is the predominantly gay district in San Fierro from "GTA: San Andreas."
Well I think that's everything for the time being and for now all you have to look forward to is a nice little 'man date' between Artie and Zeke. How will it turn out? Well you're just gonna have to tune in for the next installment!
As always, read and review! This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/