Author's Notes: After dabbling in some completely original chapters I am now back to working on chapters inspired by the original story.
Chapter 27: Three Aces and a Joker, Pt. 1
It had been two days since Artie had helped his cousin eliminate that spoiled rich kid and his posse and then barely survived the skirmish with the authorities over in Kirby, all in one long day.
In addition to the money looted from Gnocchi and that fallen attendant, he made an additional three thousand for his help in taking down that rich kid. Even though his cousin may have been a shady bastard, he didn't feel like he was in any position to question where his money came from at this point in time.
All the money he was making made his stay in Rushmore City more bearable.
"What the hell am I thinking? I'm not looking to set up permanent residence around here anyway," Artie grunted as he made his way down the street to the Swigger's liquor store.
It was 'game night' for Zeke and his 'war buddies' and with nothing better to do on a slow day, he had finally caved in to join them for a night of "Sworn for Battle," where Zeke's platoon was scheduled to take on a unit based down in Reddick, Florida.
Literally, it was the only thing the young bartender would discuss all day long, how he and the boys were going to "open an entire keg of whoop ass on those 'Red Dicked' losers."
Artie had been charged with gathering 'refreshments' and was nearly at the liquor store's front door when he passed the Pawn-o-Rama and was suddenly distracted by the news broadcast shown on the Panoramic flat screen in the shop's front window.
"-and in other news, local law enforcement agencies are coming under fire for their handling of the recent manhunt in the Kirby district from two days ago, which resulted in numerous casualties and several hundred thousand dollars' worth in property damages.
"The bloody skirmish has come under fire from Democratic mayoral challenger Robert Kretchell, who has criticized both the police and N.O.O.S.E. repeatedly in the past over their alleged 'excessively aggressive' methods used against small-time criminals, as well as the local anti-violence group 'Rushmorians Against Guns and Extremism.' Hoping to quell any doubts, R.C.P.D.'s Commissioner of Police Dennis Rowe, the commander of Rushmore City's N.O.O.S.E. division Timothy Chalmers and the director of Rushmore's F.I.B. division Benson Tuttle all came together earlier on today for a press conference held at the R.C.P.D.'s main headquarters."
The scene shifted over to a conference room where three men sat at the front before a crowd of reporters, activists and concerned citizens.
"Commissioner Rowe, it is to our understanding that your men were tracking down one lone gunman and yet you deployed practically half the department to try bringing this man down, was that truly necessary?" asked RCNN-13 correspondent Cora Ricardo.
"Ms. Ricardo, this may have been just one gunman we are talking about here, but when a murderer is on the loose in this fair city we always treat it as if there is more than one gunman present. From what my men reported, the individual they were tracking was reportedly like that one character Jack Howitzer portrayed, 'the Annihilator,' and if you ask me, then yes that indeed justifies the excessive use of force."
Up next to speak was a correspondent from Weazel News, "Commander Chalmers, let me be the first to say that here at Weazel News we truly believe your presence in Rushmore City is indeed a blessing," the man tried to speak until he was cut off by an activist from R.A.G.E.
"Sir, you must be blind!" spoke the young woman, "Have you not seen how much those barbarians enjoy their job just a little too much?" she spoke as more members began cheering her loudly, "Do you have any idea how many innocents were harmed going after that madman? An elderly grandfather who was just one week away from celebrating his 80th birthday was one of the innocent casualties caught within the crossfire? How are you going to explain that to his grandchildren?"
"Lady, you've got a lot of fucking nerve to be talking down to members of law enforcement like that, especially my men!" Commander Chalmers interjected, "We're out there doing a lot more than a bunch of doughnut munching losers who would rather spend their time fucking a hooker in the backseat of their patrol car would in an entire week!" the muscular man shouted, prompting a loud protest from the commissioner sitting next to him, "So why don't you sit your bony ass down and show some goddamned respect you drug-addled feminist bitch!"
Artie chuckled as the commander's scathing comments drew widespread backlash from those in the room and his laughter grew even louder as the F.I.B. director stepped in.
"Heh, like either one of you losers could get the job done to begin with!" Director Tuttle scoffed to both men before turning to address their audience, "Mind you, it was the hardworking men and women of the Federal Investigation Bureau who finally brought that madman to justice, sending him straight to Hell where belongs!"
"And from I understand you didn't even catch the right man," a woman's voice suddenly spoke up, silencing all three men from their argument.
"What did you just say?" Director Tuttle asked angrily, the fires of Hell seen burning in his eyes even from the TV screen.
"It is to my understanding that you embarked on an excessively violent, bloody manhunt all to catch one man, one simple man, and in the process you caught the wrong man, yet another innocent civilian unjustly caught in the crossfire," the woman replied matter-of-factly, "Furthermore, I understand your men opened fire the second he stepped through the door, in violation of the terms of compliance officers of the law are supposed to observe."
"Young lady, just who the hell do you think you are? More importantly, where the hell did you get this supposed information?" Director Tuttle demanded.
"Sylvia Liu," the woman replied, revealed as an attractive young woman of Chinese descent with shoulder-length dark hair, deep almond-shaped eyes and a curvaceous figure that made Artie take notice, "and it is my mission to get the truth out to the people at any and all costs. You'll be surprised who's willing to talk when it means those who deserve it get their asses handed to them."
A loud honk distracted the hired gun and he whirled around to see a dark blue Mesa Grande pulling up, similar to the one Zeke's friend Kato drove.
"Yo' Artie, dude what's up?" the aforementioned gang banger called out coming to a halt alongside him.
Speak of the Devil.
"Kato? What the hell brings you to these parts?" Artie asked looking around, "I hope you do realize that you are smack dab in the middle of Redcoats territory, right?"
"Eh, gotta take a risk every now and then," the rookie operative casually replied, turning up his radio, currently playing "Hell Bent for Leather" by Judas Priest, loud enough for Artie to cover his ears.
"Could you please turn that damn thing down for one second?" the hired gun shouted over the sonic assault.
"Hey, don't be insulting Priest dude!" Kato spat reluctantly turning the dial.
"Okay, okay, but seriously what brings you around?" Artie asked leaning against his jeep.
"You," Kato replied pointing at him, "The 'general' wants to have a word with you."
"General?" Artie asked.
"Yeah, my boss," Kato added, "I told him all about how you helped us take down those Redcoat goons over at Gazangas and now he wants to meet you personally. That's a rare honor for an 'outsider' if you ask me."
"You're joking right? He wants to meet me of all people," Artie scoffed, prompting Kato to narrow his eyes at him.
"This Ace ain't no Joker, friend. It's quite an honor if you ask me, now hop on in and I'll take you to meet him," he said waving Artie forth.
"Well I was kind of in the middle of something," Artie said looking back to the liquor store, "Guess it'll have to wait."
"Dude, I'm aware this is Zeke's game night, but there are more important things at stake right now. If he pisses and moans over not being able to get his buzz on, then I'm willing to take full responsibility. Now hop on in, it's not like I plan on having you out all night long," Kato said reaching over to open the door for him.
"Whatever, but you'd damn sure better be making it worth my time to meet this beloved 'General' of yours," Artie sighed climbing in and buckling his seatbelt, "So where are we heading to?"
"It's still at the point where if I told you, I'd have to kill you," Kato laughed evilly, but didn't scare Artie at all.
"Sure thing kid, you've got me totally quaking in my boots right now," Artie sardonically chuckled as he looked out the window to see some cops pulling a naked couple out of a van and wrestling them down to the concrete.
"Okay seriously, I'd recommend you brush up on your manners. The General and company really don't like being insulted," Kato advised as he waited for the light to turn green. Artie meanwhile was more concerned with looking out for any nearby Redcoats, knowing they wouldn't hesitate to rip them out of the jeep and shoot them dead if given the chance.
"So is there anything you can tell me about this 'General' fellow or about the gang altogether without having to kill me afterward?" Artie inquired as they exited the Camden Heights district and move further into another Redcoat-controlled district, knowing it would be a while before they were finally out of the woods. "Might as well get to know this kid a little better before he can get his head blown off for acting like his Johnson is bigger than what it really is."
"We're just a group of 'concerned citizens' who came together to fight back against the Redcoats, the Hellcats, the Yardies, the pigs and anybody else who threatens the stability of Lincoln Shore…" Kato explained before suddenly stopping himself, "…oh shit, I said too much!"
"It's cool. As long as the Aces don't cause any shit for me or my family and friends, then you have nothing to worry about," Artie replied.
"It's not us Aces causing all the shit going down around here; it's those fuckhead Redcoats and their lapdogs. You should know that already after the way they fired upon us in Gazangas," Kato shrugged.
"I believe you man, I was present at that battle on the same day when the airport was shut down by that terrorist attack, caught in the crossfire to be exact," the Italian-American replied.
Kato said nothing, offering a haunted gaze, a drastic departure from his usual devil may care disposition.
Surprisingly, as they moved towards the end of the Bellport district he swore he could have seen Donnie's Banshee parked outside one of the many apartment complexes, assuming he must have been in this part of town running errands.
"Who the fuck am I kidding? Banging a different woman every other day is his definition of 'running an errand.'" Artie thought as he spotted a sign welcoming them to Lincoln Shore.
The shore that gave the district is name was dominated by a weathered boardwalk that still had a few small booths on it that weren't receiving much attention. Aside from that, there were a few small businesses, mostly weathered houses and a cemetery, a far cry from the moneymaker it had been back in its heyday.
"Okay, we're here," Kato said pulling up to a derelict building that had once been the 'Gold Digger' casino, a once grand structure dominating the entire block in which it was housed with what had been the neon figure of a woman dressed up like a Leprechaun and sitting atop a pot of gold situated above the entrance's overhang, now weathered due to years of neglect and making her age like an actual person would.
Several dark blue vehicles surrounded the seemingly abandoned building, either Washington sedans, Mesa Grande jeeps like the one they were in right now, a few Vigero muscle cars and some heavily modified Rumpo XL vans decorated with playing cards carrying the figure of which the gang claimed their name, the Ace.
Kato parked the jeep and climbed out, looking around to make sure nobody else was listening in on their conversation before turning to speak to him, "Alright, just let me do all the talking and don't do anything stupid. They'll know you're with me and I don't want that reflecting upon me in a negative way, got it?"
"You're the boss," Artie shrugged as he was led towards the building.
Approaching a graffiti-covered door Kato wrapped on its steel surface twice and instantly a slot opened with the barrel of an AR-15 ArmaLite being jammed through it.
"Oh, it's you," a voice came from the other side and the guard opened the door for Kato, only to stop and raise his rifle once he took notice of Artie.
"What the hell Kato?" another guard spoke up, this one a tall, lanky African-American with his hair cropped closely to his head, "Y'know what Darius said, you can't just bring anybody around here!"
"It's cool Ollie, the General wants to see him," the rookie Ace said raising his hands defensively.
Ollie and his colleague looked to each other before nodding uneasily and moving out of the entrance.
"Okay go on in, but if that 'friend' of yours tries anything funny…PA-POW!" the guard said pretending to fire his gun.
"You really should listen to your friend; I'm not here to cause any trouble. Gee, are all you Aces this fucking paranoid?" Artie asked with a roll of his dark eyes.
"Artie shut the fuck up!" Kato screamed before turning back to his colleagues, "Relax man, he's a little shy around new people, that's all!" to which Artie just shook his head.
"Come along now," Kato spoke waving the errand boy into the decrepit building and past the two guards, who still offered filthy looks to their guest as they shut the door behind him and slid the deadbolt back into place.
Kato led the hired gun down the entrance hall and into the gaming area itself, which was dominated by long dormant slot machines and tables were various card games were once played, now mostly covered by emptied beer bottles, used drug paraphernalia and firearms in various states of assembly. In the very center of the room was a '61 Big Bends convertible sports car riddled with bullet holes and having long since fallen into a rusted shell of its former glory due to decades of disrepair.
There had been several Aces scattered throughout the large room, some seated at the former piano bar in the far right-hand corner, a few more gathered around a sitting area who had somehow managed to hook up a GBOX 720 and were in the middle of playing a game and another former lounge that had since been converted into a crude gym, where a few more worked out.
Once they took notice of an outsider within their presence they stopped everything they were doing and narrowed their eyes in his direction.
"Hey Kato, you know the drill, we don't just allow anybody in here," a man around Kato's age with short brown hair and long messy bangs in the front called out, carrying a sawn-off Mossberg 500 and flanked by two additional Aces, "The General's gonna be so pissed when he finds out you brought a stray home…if we even allow him to live that long that is," he added, a comment which left Artie reaching for his holstered Beretta and ready to shoot his way out of there.
"Relax, the General wants to see him!" Kato repeated, throwing himself between the two men waving his hands back and forth frantically.
All the mentions of this 'General' character were really starting to pique Artie's interest and he would have been eager to meet him and find out what the hell all the hubbub was about after the way he was plucked off the street by Kato, as long as one of the trigger happy Aces didn't cap him first.
"He's telling the truth, let them through Mickey," another voice called out.
The Aces dispersed as a burly man of Pacific Islander descent stepped into view, his long black hair worn in a ponytail and most of his visible skin decorated by traditional Maori tattoos.
"Is this the 'general' Kato keeps rambling on about?" Artie asked himself carefully looking the man over.
"So you must be the new guy Darius was talking about, huh?" the man asked now taking his turn to examine the errand boy.
"And I take it you're not the 'General' guy Kato told me about?" Artie said looking over to his companion.
"Nah," the man laughed, "I'm just his right-hand man. C'mon, I can take you to meet the General though. I'm Sala by the way," he said offering his hand.
"Artie Cappelli," the errand boy replied returning the gesture as he and Kato followed after the burly man.
The stroll to meet the elusive 'General' led the trio through a set of double doors at the left hand side and into what had once been an entertainment hall, the setup on the stage appearing to have been that of a Venturas-style magic show that was never completed.
The hall now looked to have been converted into a sleeping quarter, billiard room, infirmary and marketplace all rolled into one.
Near the stage a pool table had been moved in and two Aces were engaged in a game, three more were knelt in front of the stage playing dice and two more were at one of the round tables playing poker. In addition to the gamers, there was another Ace reclining on a stretcher in the back corner that had been converted into the makeshift infirmary, his right thigh wrapped in a thick gauze stained crimson following his last battle, and another trio who were watching "Malevolent Deceased" on a small Sumo TV set up on another table held up by cinderblocks. On a higher level was what had once been the D.J.'s booth, now converted into a sniper's nest where a man in a dark blue beanie stood tall with a Remington 700 slung over his shoulder.
"So this is how the Aces roll, huh?" Artie asked looking around the gang's meager accommodations.
"Well when you're at the bottom of the barrel it's not like you can afford some fancy mansion over in Salmon Ridge, duh! Gotta make due with what we've got," Kato replied as they were lead through another set of double doors and down another corridor where several Aces stood around armed with heavier weaponry.
Eventually they were led to another set of double doors which Sala would approach and knock on before stepping inside, only to emerge a second later.
"The General will now see you," Sala spoke to the hitman before turning his attention to Kato, "Alright kid, this is a personal issue. You're gonna need to wait outside."
"But dude, I brought him-" the rookie Ace attempted to protest, only to be cut off by a sharp glare from the second-in-command and the two men standing guard. He eventually sighed in defeat and collapsed onto a nearby bench.
"C'mon in," Sala said holding the door for him.
He was led into a large boardroom where the solid oak table was heavily marred by gouges and numerous stains, as well as what appeared to be a few long ago dried droplets of blood. A shattered fish tank stood behind the worn leather chair at the front of the room, no doubt judging by the kind of money the former owners may have been raking in he would guess it was once inhabited by the rarest of species from the most exotic corners of the world. Near the front of the table sat a laptop made by Fruit Computers, the only thing that looked untouched by years of neglect in the entire room.
There were five people seated at the long rectangular table, which could have probably held twenty people altogether, whom he assumed were likely the gang's higher ups.
Seated on the left hand side were two men, the first a man of Puerto Rican descent with a shaved head who wore a dark blue basketball jersey and was in the middle of peeling away at an apple with a stiletto.
Next to him was a man whose dark tan-skinned indicated his Native American ancestry, as well as his dark eyes and black hair he wore in a military-style buzz cut. He was currently in the process of sharpening an authentic tomahawk with a whetstone.
On the other side were a man and a woman, the man of Asian descent with his short dark hair cropped closely to his head and wearing a dark blue t-shirt that appeared to have some blood spatters on it, an AR-15 ArmaLite strapped to his back. The woman was very attractive and was either of Latin, Asian or possibly mixed descent, wearing a blue top that closely hugged her ample chest and athletic torso underneath.
"Hey yo' Darius, he's here," Sala called out towards the front of the table, where the tall swivel chair faced away from them.
The chair spun around and instead of seeing some grizzled war veteran clad in an olive drab suit decorated by the medals of various acts of valor, he was greeted by a tall African-American male who could have possibly been in his late thirties or early forties, wearing a dark blue custom tailored puffy jacket and a matching do-rag over his bald head and had a thin mustache and goatee.
The so-called 'General' and the four other people present all stopped everything they were doing to receive their guest.
"So I take it you must be the guy Kato was ranting and raving about, huh?" the leader spoke standing up and walking over to Artie.
"That would be me," Artie replied with a nod.
"Darius McLaren," the man said offering his hand, "I lead the Aces."
"So you're the 'General' everybody keeps talking about, huh?" Artie asked, wondering if the man possessed any actual military experience.
"You could say that, yeah," Darius said before motioning towards his associates, "Before I go any further I'd like you to meet some of the top brass around here," he said starting with the woman.
"This is Lexie, our top strategist and master negotiator."
"Street gangs around here actually negotiate?" Artie quipped.
"Hey, we're not a group of drugged up psychopaths called the Yardies, we're not a bunch of disrespectful nobody piss ants called the Hellcats, and we're sure as hell not a bunch of backstabbing motherfuckers called the Redcoats!" Lexie scoffed.
Darius ignored his strategist's reply and turned his attention to the man seated next to her, "This is Koji, our 'medic' if you will."
"Well at least you've got some actual positions around here," Artie replied looking towards the Asian-American man, "Got any health and dental?"
"Nah, but we do get to play with guns and blow shit up," the medic chuckled almost insanely.
The Aces 'general' then turned his attention over to the Native American man, "This here is Jason Rivers, our ace tracker and scavenger."
"Anything you need, I get it," the man spoke short and to the point, admiring his newly re-sharpened blade.
"And this here is Philly, one of our street sergeants," Darius said motioning towards the Puerto Rican man.
"Glad to meet you. You've made the right choice in rolling with us," the man replied before chomping down on some of the apple peelings.
"He ain't technically rolling with us just yet," Darius said to his subordinate before returning his attention to Artie.
"No offense, but I honestly don't think I wanna be rolling with anybody. This is a conflict which I'd much rather not be getting involved in," Artie replied with a shrug.
"So you're a fuckin' pussy then, huh?" Philly spoke up reaching for his stiletto, only to be halted by Darius.
"I'm afraid you really have no other choice by this point. You've already killed members of the Redcoats, the Hellcats and the Yardies, no doubt they'll be hunting your ass down until you're either six feet under or until pieces of you are scattered all over the island," the leader explained before furrowing his brow, "and if you wish to insult us like this, you can have another gang wanting you dead."
"Okay fine, you win. What do you want me to do?" Artie asked sighing in defeat.
"There's a lot that needs to be done. We've decided that enough is enough and we're going to put those bastards out of their misery once and for all. To do so, we're going to need a lot of powerful allies, but if you're going to roll with us you need to prove yourself. We ain't got time for pussies looking to bring us down, so you'd better be ready to deliver," Darius said looking him straight in the eye.
"It wouldn't be the first time I've had to prove myself and it probably won't be the last," Artie replied, "and I plan on being around long enough to prove myself again."
"You've got spirit man, I'm definitely gonna give that to you, but everything else you're gonna have to earn," Darius said motioning for him to follow.
They made their way back into the hall, where Kato still waited outside the door like a puppy waiting for his master to return home.
"So how did it go man? Are you in yet?" he asked following alongside his newfound companion.
"Not yet," the hired gun hissed back as they were led into the main gaming area, where all of the Aces stopped whatever they were doing and rose to receive their leader in the way troops would rise to salute their general.
"Listen up Aces, this here is Artie Cappelli and he's gonna be helping us out, but in order to receive our support he's gonna have to commit to a series of 'tests' and he has to pass each and every single one of them before I give any of you the order to raise your guns in his defense," Darius called out, his followings hanging on his every word.
"Guess I should've brought my No. 2 pencils along," Artie quipped, but was again ignored by the leader, whose attention remained focused solely on his followers.
He could tell that in spite of his thuggish appearance, the man was a charismatic soul who commanded respect and yet at the same time emitted the fatherly aura of a leader who seemed to genuinely care for his subjects and would actually take it hard if one of them died, unlike most gang leaders who view their subordinates as nothing more than expendable pawns. No doubt he would have an entire loyal army ready to do his bidding the second he commanded.
Darius returned his attention to Artie and nodded, "If you want our help you'd better start getting to it."
"Alright, what do you want me to do?"
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Alright listen up, I've got three of my top lieutenants set up at different locations all around the island," Darius explained over the phone as Artie rode in the Mesa Grande along with Kato.
"Your task is to meet up with each one of them and perform whatever they ask of you. They take a shit and tell you to eat it, you do it. Understand?"
"That's a little hardcore don't you think?" Artie sarcastically retorted.
"Coming from the mouth of somebody who shot up a whole bunch of Redcoats in cold blood? I think not. I need you to get over to La Reina. Rodrigo is waiting for you; trust me he's not hard to miss."
The line went dead and Artie put his phone away, returning his attention to Kato, who had been tasked with transporting him to the first location.
"Where to oh gracious leader?" Kato joked as the light turned green.
"La Reina, and step on it. I have to meet up with Rodrigo," Artie replied as the jeep moved along.
"He probably wants you to race him, but I warn you that guy's good," Kato explained, "He's one of the best street racers in all of Rushmore City and is a near mythic figure on the back roads of Roosevelt Hills. Hell, the hillbillies there think he's some kind of blue ghost or something."
"So is that all he does?" Artie asked as they passed through the Cuba Norte district, where some orange-clad Cuban thugs were in the process of terrorizing some patrons outside the Bean Machine.
"He's also our top mechanic and runs our chop shop operations. I've already jacked a few rides for the guy and he pays well too. Seriously, I think he's supposed to be the exiled son of some Colombian Cartel or something along those lines. I'd ask further, but I don't wanna be ending up in a drainage ditch somewhere with a Colombian necktie," Kato explained further.
"That's a charming thought…" the hired gun sighed, knowing of the bloodthirsty, disloyal nature of the said criminal organization.
"Relax man, just don't piss him off and you'll be alright."
The duo eventually pulled up to a purple and yellow building which Artie recognized as Taco Hell, a cartoon caricature of Satan wearing a sombrero and holding a taco in one hand and a large drink in the other making up the logo.
"That's him right there," Kato said pointing towards a Colombian man reclining casually at one of the outdoor tables with a large burrito in hand.
He was around 5' 10" in height with short black hair worn slicked back and a thin mustache with a soul patch beneath his lower lip. He was clad in a white wife beater and dark blue jeans with black, white and blue athletic shoes and for being one of the Aces he possessed some pretty high end jewelry, wearing an ornate cross necklace, gold Crowex watch similar to what Artie had once possessed and had several rings on each finger. He also wore a holster around his waist which carried an H&K MK23 semi-automatic pistol, likely deterring any hoodlums from trying to loot any of the aforementioned 'bling bling.'
"Hey Rodrigo," Kato called out approaching the man and walking over to high-five him.
"Good to see you again Kato," the man replied in a thick accent before turning to address Artie, "And you must be the guy the boss was talking about, pleasure to meet you amigo."
"Likewise," Artie replied with a nod, "I was told you might have a little 'test' for me to complete, and I'm guessing that it's something that doesn't require me to bring a pencil and a calculator along."
"So you're a funny man, eh? I doubt that'll get you far with what I have planned for you, but I can't blame you for wanting to go down with a smile on your face," the Colombian chuckled before addressing Kato, "Alright kid, I'm sure the boss has other things in mind for you, so I think it's time you skedaddle. I'll take it from here."
"Fine," Kato said feeling deflated before speaking to Artie, "Let me know how things turn out," he shouted before turning on his heel and making his way back to the jeep.
"Alright, let's get to it then," Artie said staring warily towards the Ace lieutenant, "What do you want me to do? Blast some Redcoats? Steal another Yardies shipment? Chop the heads off some Hellcats and place them on pikes all around the island? Take you on in a street race?"
Rodrigo laughed heartily at the last comment, "Get the fuck outta here ese, you ain't nowhere near that just yet!" he scoffed before picking up his tray and emptying his trash into the nearest receptacle. "How good are you at getting things?"
"Eh, I've been told I'm pretty good," Artie replied.
"Well what you've probably been told elsewhere means shit around these parts. If you're gonna be making such a claim, then you'd damned sure better be able to back it up, meaning you're gonna have to start from scratch all over again," the Colombian casually replied, "Come with me holmes and I'll tell you what I've got in mind."
Rodrigo led the errand boy over to the parking lot and towards a waiting Style SR, the sports car-based 'tuner' carrying a blue and gold paint scheme, covered in lightning-based decals with a large spoiler on the back, sparkling gold-plated rims, prominent nitrous pipes jutting from the rear end and as they drew closer, suede seats that would surely feel soft on the skin.
"Badass ride man," Artie complimented as the man pushed a button on his key chain to unlock the doors.
"Thanks man, she's the only lady I have in my life right now so I treat her like a queen. I don't just let anybody ride around in her, especially some pretty boy who hasn't proven himself yet, it's only by the General's orders I let you," the Ace lieutenant said as Artie climbed inside.
"Guess I should feel privileged then," Artie chuckled as Rodrigo started the car up.
"As long as no Aces have died by your hand then you're innocent until proven guilty in my book. I at least owe you that much," Rodrigo said switching on the Fiesta 103 Latin station, currently playing "Corazon Espinado" by Santana.
"You don't give me shit, I don't give you shit. It's that simple in my book," the hired gun spoke.
"Sounds fair enough to me," Rodrigo nodded pulling out of the taco joint's parking lot.
"So what's on the menu for today?" Artie asked as the tuner blew through an intersection.
"The boss wants us to get a few cars," Rodrigo replied.
"Um…okay," Artie asked looking towards him in confusion.
"These just aren't any cars he wants us to get," the Ace mechanic replied, prompting Artie's gaze to narrow in demand of an answer, "He wants us to get a car from the Redcoats, the Hellcats and the Yardies. Don't know what he has planned, but I'm guessing it'll be something aimed at disrupting their alliance. Those guys are all tighter than a nun's pussy."
"I take it that's been something you guys have been planning out for some time?" Artie asked as they passed into the Yardie-held territory of Stoker.
"Fuck yeah ese, those guys are gonna be too much for us if they keep getting along the way they do. We gotta fuckin' do something about that if we're gonna be makin' it outta this alive in the end, what better way to do that than to have them murdering each other instead?" the Colombian replied.
"And then you guys swoop in and pick the bones, not exactly a bad idea when you're as pinned against the wall as you guys make yourselves out to sound," Artie replied.
"Its' the fuckin' truth man. I've seen God knows how many brothers dying over these past few months. Those bastards have really been stepping it up lately," Rodrigo answered as he came to the Blackball'd pool bar.
A Voodoo lowrider was parked out front, carrying the green, black and yellow paint scheme associated with the Yardies.
"Alright, looks like we onto something, "Rodrigo said pulling his car to a halt around the corner and popping the trunk, "knowing how the Yardies roll, where there's one there are certainly others close by. I got a little something in the trunk for you to use if it comes down to that. Once you get the wheels, follow me back to Lincoln Shore. We've got a couple storage lockers behind that Aegean Greek café place where we can store them."
"You got it," Artie said climbing out and making his way around to the trunk, where he found two Ruger SR-556 carbines waiting for him. He looked around to see there weren't many streetwalkers around and grabbed one of them along with a few clips before slamming the lid shut.
The hitman peeked around the bar's corner to see nobody coming and he quickly rushed over to the Voodoo, swinging the carbine's stock to shatter the driver's side window and quickly climbed in. Reaching down he proceeded to hotwire the car and within seconds had it going, switching the Rasta 106.9 station over to Radio GX, playing "Take Cover" by Mr. Big.
He rounded the corner and pulled up behind Rodrigo, honking the horn signaling he was ready to go.
The Style SR shifted into drive and Artie followed close behind all the way back to the Lincoln Shore district without incident. Artie was eventually led to the Aegean Café, where the Ace lieutenant would take a right turn leading him into the alley alongside the building and straight to the aforementioned storage lockers, leaving him to carefully park the Voodoo inside.
"One down, two to go," Rodrigo nodded as Artie climbed back into the tuner.
"So where to next?" the errand boy inquired as they pulled back into traffic.
"There's a place over in Jansport I know a lot of the Hellcats like hanging out at. If we're lucky we'll find some of them creeping around there and if we're even luckier, they'll be too drunk off their fucking asses to fight back," Rodrigo replied as they made their way towards a district Artie was somewhat familiar with.
Taking another unmolested drive the duo soon found themselves in the Hellcat-held territory of Jansport, immediately happening across a few of the tan-clad gang members who were in the midst of delivering a beat down to some older fellow outside of the Rollio Records, yet didn't have a car with them.
"Okay, get ready we're not too far," Rodrigo spoke up as they moved down one of the district's main streets, watching as a tan-colored Dukes came into view and made a right turn into a parking lot.
Lo and behold they had arrived at the Jack Doff Bar and Grill, a small green building that stood out like a sore thumb amongst the weathered tan, gray and white-colored buildings around it. The parking lot teemed with a multitude of tan-colored vehicles, mostly Dukes and Slamvans, as well as some Hellenbach GT's.
Artie and Rodrigo were practically entering the lion's den, usually the absolute last place he would ever want to be, but if him gaining some new allies could be the end result then for now he would deal with it.
Fortunately there were no Hellcats outside at the moment and the duo exited the tuner. Not concerned about being picky Artie made his way towards the nearest Hellenbach GT and was about to smash the driver's side window when the Ace stopped him.
"Holy shit man, check this out!" he hissed waving the errand boy over excitedly towards a Slamvan parked near the building.
Artie barely stifled a grunt of annoyance as he grudgingly made his way over, but would nearly gasp as he looked through the van's porthole.
Inside was an entire shipment of weapons, mostly shotguns and submachine guns, but also carrying a few assault rifles, boxes of grenades, Kevlar vests and even two RPG launchers!
"Score," Rodrigo half-shouted excitedly and struggling to contain his glee with his discovery.
"Hey, it's one of those Ace bitches!" a voice called out.
"Get the fuck away from there!" another shouted followed by the pumping of a shotgun.
Not even needing to be told what was happening Artie dove for cover behind an Ingot station wagon, one of the few vehicles whose owner was not affiliated with the Hellcats, raising his rifle and firing a volley that sent both Hellcats diving for cover.
The gunfire had attracted their allies and within seconds the bar's windows were being smashed and the Hellcats inside were sticking the barrels of their weapons out and firing upon the invading duo.
"We were planning on hunting you bitches down, but it looks like you did the job for us!" the shotgun-toting Hellcat laughed maniacally before pumping his shotgun and firing a round that sent Rodrigo scampering behind a Lokus.
The other Hellcat focused on Artie, taking cover behind one of his gang's Dukes and firing a barrage before bolting behind a neutral Hakumai to fire another.
Artie peeked out to return fire, only to be cut down as one of the Hellcats inside shot at him and he ducked just before the bullets could connect.
"As if you Aces couldn't get any fucking stupider!" the Hellcat taunted before he was forced back into cover.
Artie peeked his head back up looking to see a Hellcat wearing a black beanie taking aim at Rodrigo and he raised the carbine, squeezing off a three shot burst that sent the man collapsing onto the window's frame with his arms hanging limply downward.
With that threat dealt with Artie looked over to see another Hellcat making a break for the Slamvan and fired off another barrage that sent the man tripping down the short flight of stairs and connecting with the pavement face first.
With the car in front of him taking excessive damage the errand boy pushed himself back to his feet and went to take cover along the exterior wall closest to him, only to encounter two Hellcats who had been attempting to launch a surprise attack from the bar's backdoor, finding themselves cut down in a flurry before either of them could squeeze off a single shot.
Slipping in through the backdoor Artie was able to get the jump on a few of the Hellcats that had been aiming out the windows, cutting down one with a round to the back of the skull, a second with three additional rounds and a third man with two bullets that succeeded in mortally wounding him. A fourth thug had been hit, but the Ruger clicked empty before Artie could finish him off.
"You and your Ace boyfriend are dead motherfucker!" an unseen Hellcat shouted before there was another exchange of gunfire with the aforementioned lieutenant outside. It had given the hired gun precious seconds to reload and he peeked around the corner of a partition where two Hellcats stood, one focused on him and the other on Rodrigo.
Before he was forced to retreat Artie had noticed a fire extinguisher on the wall near the Hellcat aiming at him and he waited for the man's gunfire to subside before peeking out and firing a burst in which his final bullet would penetrate the red tank, spraying both men and leaving him open to take down the gangster firing at him while the other would fall from one of Rodrigo's bullets outside.
"Quick, get the Slamvan!' he heard Rodrigo shouting from outside and the hitman made his way through the front door to find the Ace lieutenant struggling with two more Hellcats that had been passing by in a Dukes and now taking cover behind their muscle cars as they traded gunfire.
Artie raised the Ruger and fired away at the attacking Hellcats, managing to wound one of the men while Rodrigo dropped the other. There was no time to finish the job as they needed to get out of there before more of those bastards could show up and right away he was bolting for the Slamvan and smashed the driver's side window open, climbing in and hotwiring it. Within seconds he had the truck running and blasting Evanescence's "Going Under" on the radio, honking the horn to tell the Ace he was ready to go.
In spite of the resistance endured at the bar, the trip back to the Ace's storage lockers once again went relatively well, aside from the worried stares of a few pedestrians as they watched two shot up vehicles passing by.
Within moments they were arriving at the storage unit and Artie was parking the Slamvan into the unit next to where he had parked the Yardie-owned Voodoo.
"Hell yeah, this has been our lucky day," Rodrigo said, finding himself near drooling at the sight of all the firearms in the back, "We're gonna blow all those fuckers to Kingdom Come faster than when the Tijuana whore goes down on one of those donkeys at those shows."
"Whoa, you said we're not done with the task yet. Sounds a little too early to be declaring victory if you ask me," Artie replied helping him pull the garage door down.
"Don't know man, I woke up feeling pretty damn good today for some reason…then again it could be that whore from last night," the mechanic chuckled making his way back to his Style SR.
"Probably something you'll be needing to get the topical cream out for pretty soon," Artie scoffed climbing back inside.
Rodrigo ignored the comment and turned up the radio as "Machucando" by Daddy Yankee came on and hooted out the window to a couple Aces walking by, all of them shouting back in solidarity.
Now all they needed to do was obtain a vehicle belonging to the notorious Redcoats and given their large presence on the island he assumed it wouldn't be long before they found one for whatever Darius had been planning.
"Alright holmes, we shouldn't be-" Rodrigo was in the midst of speaking just as a bullet pierced the front windshield, taking out the rearview mirror and sailing directly between the two men.
Artie raised the rifle looking ahead to see a quartet of Redcoats running towards them, soon followed by three of their red and white Clovers with a Burrito taking up the rear.
"Motherfuckers," Rodrigo shouted bringing the tuner to a halt and attempting to back it up, only to hear more screeches from behind.
Artie looked into the rearview mirror on his side to see two more Burritos speeding into view.
"Shit, they're trying to box us in!" he shouted, but it was too late as one of the Burritos had already succeeded in ramming the smaller street racer from behind, rocking it harshly and sending both men lurching forward.
"Ahh! Fuckin' A motherfuckers!" the Ace mechanic cried out as his body was rocked by shockwaves of pain, his spasms inadvertently saving his life when he lurched to the left, avoiding a cluster of high power rounds that tore apart his head rest behind him.
Raising the Ruger in the confined space Artie let loose a volley upon the attackers in front of them, showering the car's interior with spent casings.
"Ahh, watch it with that thing!" Rodrigo screamed, finding himself deafened by the rifle being discharged in close quarters and yelping even harder as the white hot expended casings made contact with his exposed skin.
"You're gonna be sorry, Aces bitch!" a voice shouted from next to the hired gun and before he knew it, he was finding himself being whipped across his face by a cold, metallic object and then thrown to the ground, assailed by numerous pairs of feet.
It suddenly hit him that he had totally forgotten about the thugs who came at them from behind.
"How could I have been so stupid?" he thought to himself before crying out in pain, struck by the butt of another assault rifle.
"Why can't you Aces just fucking die already?" a thug shouted before delivering another butt smash to his lower back.
Artie could hear Rodrigo's cries of pain from a distance, yet was left in a similarly helpless predicament.
"This is the end of the road for you and the rest of those blue balling bitches!" a Redcoat thug taunted, "When we're done with you, we're gonna string both your bitch asses up and show Darius and the rest of those cocksuckers what happens when you mess with the Redcoats motherfucker!"
"Fuck that shit man, why don't you cut 'em up? Send 'em back in pieces!" another voice called out.
"Hey Moto, you got that chainsaw with you?" a third voice called out.
"Never leave home without it!" yet another voice called out, this one giving off a demented, snake-like hiss that allowed Artie to feel the venom dripping off every little word he had to offer.
"Let's find us someplace a little more private. Don't want the fuzz showing up and ruining all the fun," called out a more authoritative voice. Before Artie knew it, he was finding himself grabbed by the scruff of his hair and forced to look the speaker in his dark eyes, a bald-headed man with a thick bushy beard to compensate for the lack of hair on his head, one that almost made him look like a biker, that or a Viking.
Artie could only grunt in pain as he was grabbed beneath the arms and the blue skies of the not-so-great outdoors would be replaced by darkness as he found himself dragged into a nearby abandoned building and thrown onto the ground, a battered and bloodied Rodrigo lying just inches away from him.
"You think we should tie 'em up?" a mousey voice spoke up.
"As bad as we've fucked them up, nah!" the bearded leader replied, "Hey Moto, you got that baby ready just yet?"
"Hold your fuckin' horses," Moto shouted back, "Goddamn and you all think I'm bloodthirsty."
So was this really how things were going to end for Artie Cappelli? Was he going to end up mailed back to the Aces in pieces, the recipient of a closed casket funeral? Would he even be sent back to anybody period, instead turned into some vicious guard dog's meal? What would Gino and Zeke do without his assistance? Would they end up falling before Johnny?
"C'mon Artie, you know you can't beat me!" the venomous loan shark's voice called out, "Whatever made you think you and some stupid wetback could fucking pull off something my own deceased grandmother could have done in her sleep? Hell, maybe I'll console that whore you pal around with by fucking her myself!"
The sneaky bastard's strident bark was suddenly drowned out by the roar of a chainsaw and Artie rolled over onto his back to see the Redcoat called Moto standing tall over him with his household gardening tool turned vicious weapon roaring and ready to cut into a fresh victim, the blade stained by the dried blood of its previous victims and the long dried chunks of their shredded flesh pelting its next intended kill.
"Heh heh, you got some meat on your bones boy. I might have to save some of you for a midnight snack!" the chainsaw-wielding madman cackled in a manner akin to a horror movie serial killer.
"No way Artie, you're not going down like this," the logical side of his mind told him, "It's gonna be a cold day in Hell before you end up inside some nutcase's belly. There won't be any cavalry showing up to save your sorry ass. Fucking do something!"
Out of desperation the hired gun shot his hand out and gripped onto something solid, something with enough weight behind it to actually hurt somebody.
A brick!
Scooping the small block up the hitman flung it with all of his might, catching the madman in the groin and causing him to drop the motorized saw onto his own forearm.
Empowered by the mad Redcoat's deafening shrieks of pain, Artie forced himself back to his feet and tackled the group's leader to the floor as his cohorts watched the horrific spectacle in stunned silence.
Tackling the bearded man to the floor with a double leg takedown, Artie quickly scooped the same brick he had used to subdue the chainsaw-wielding madman and brought it down on the man's face.
"Gah! Don't just stand there! Help me!" the man screamed before being struck again.
Rodrigo had found a perfect opening as the Redcoats stood entranced by the bloody spectacle of their teammate having his own hand sawn off just below the elbow, the torrents of blood spraying in every direction, his skin turning as white as a sheet, his screams of agony…all too much for them to turn their eyes away.
Kicking his leg out the Ace lieutenant took one of his red-clad adversaries from his feet and then mounted the man, bringing his knee down into the man's groin before wrapping his hands around his throat and bashing his head into the concrete.
With his captor incapacitated he reached down and scooped up the man's Remington shotgun, pumping it and firing a blast into the side of another Redcoat and then dropping the colleague next to him with his thigh and knee torn apart by the following buckshot, a wound he would soon bleed out from.
It was the dual blasts which had finally snapped the remaining Redcoats from their trance and got them raising their guns at their mortal enemy.
After what must have been the hundredth strike there was a loud crack as the leader's skull crumbled beneath its encasement of flesh and with it, Artie finally dropped the bloodstained brick.
It was by then the gunfire had resumed and he looked over his shoulder to see two Redcoats collapsing next to their maniacal colleague and the other red-clad warriors raising their weapons to return fire.
Noting the powerful Colt Anaconda that had been concealed in the leader's blood red trench coat, Artie scooped it up and fired a round that caught a dark-skinned man in the back of the neck, obliterating much of the flesh and bone and leaving it almost hanging by a few strips of tendon before he hit the floor.
The hired gun's battered wrists and arms throbbed from the powerful gun's recoil, yet it could do little to deter Artie as he struggled to protect the Ace, who had now taken cover behind a metal crate that barely provided any cover.
Artie took aim at a beanie-wearing thug armed with a TEC-9 and squeezed the trigger again, a round punching through the man's side just beneath his arm and likely piercing his lung. It didn't stop there as he fired a third round into the side of another bald man's shiny chrome dome, his brains spraying from a newborn hole onto a nearby colleague who would fall as the distraction left him open to one of Rodrigo's shotgun blasts.
Another red-clad hoodlum took notice of the shots fired from the opposite direction and spun around, but it was already too late as his stomach was perforated by a round which left him falling to the ground screaming in pain, another death soon to follow.
"You're gonna pay you fucking cocksucker!" screamed a lanky Redcoat in a red tanktop and track pants with a matching do-rag, firing upon Artie with an AK-74 and forcing him to take cover behind a long dormant piece of machinery.
The hired gun was down to two rounds after having his Ruger taken away from him and from what he could see it would be him and Rodrigo against seven remaining Redcoats. Once again he was going to have to think of something fast if he wanted to save himself and the Ace.
It was then he was finally able to take notice of his surroundings, finding himself in what appeared to be an old shipping warehouse and he looked up to see a pulley overhead with a load suspended in place by a rusted chain. He couldn't tell what it was, but it was something big and he figured it could be his only chance at evening the playing field.
Taking a deep breath, the hired gun managed to steady his aim in all the chaos around him and pulled the trigger.
A tiny clink went unheard beneath all the gunfire as the bullet connected in its one in a million shot and the payload was sent falling towards the earth, crushing two Redcoats that had been so caught up in their mission to snuff out their hated archrival.
The deafening crash rattled the remaining gangbangers, rooting one man to his spot in fear and making him an immobile target for the Ace mechanic's shotgun blast, nearly separating the man's upper torso from his legs.
Another Redcoat attempted to avenge his fallen comrade, only to be put out of his misery but the last two rounds from Artie's powerful revolver. So caught up was the hired gun in his mission to take down the man in front of him he had forgotten he was now out of ammo with no means to reload. Once again he had fucked himself over as three Redcoats remained.
Or had he?
Lying on the ground was the still revving chainsaw that had been the psychopathic Redcoat known as Moto's 'baby,' the blade coated in the fresh blood of its former owner turned latest victim.
Artie bolted over and scooped up the chainsaw, raising it above his head and letting out a mighty roar that would have made Peltface proud.
The nearest Redcoat had seen the hired gun approaching and was fumbling for a fresh clip for his AK-74, but Artie bolted towards the man and drew the moving blade across his stomach, creating a deep rend that soon left his intestines spilling out.
"You sick fuck!" another Redcoat shouted, just before he felt to a shotgun blast to the sternum compliments of Rodrigo.
That left only one Redcoat left and the man had expended all of his rifle ammo and became separated from his sidearm when the payload fell from above. He was in a bad position and left to scramble for any kind of improvised weapon he could get his hands on, forced to settle for a rusted pipe wrench lying on a nearby workbench.
"You're wrong; it's the end of the road for you!" Artie said with a shit-eating grin crossing his face, revving the engine menacingly.
The Redcoat looked back and forth between his options, one an Ace, a member of his most hated enemy's tribe, wielding a shotgun and the other some mysterious fellow palling around with them who was armed with a chainsaw and here he was armed with just a pipe wrench, a large weapon that under different circumstances would have made him looking like the bigger badass in the whole equation, but against two men carrying stronger weapons he was just a sitting duck.
"T-Th-This isn't over!" the man blurted out dropping the wrench and whirling around on his heel towards the nearest exit.
"C'mon ese, we gotta get outta here," Rodrigo said grabbing the errand boy by the shoulder and dragging him towards the entrance.
Artie dropped the still revving chainsaw and followed after without a struggle, stepping back onto the street to find all of the Redcoat cars still left parked haphazardly around Rodrigo's Style SR.
Additional Aces had arrived on the scene, two in a Vigero and four more in a Washington, and were engaged in a back and forth gunfire with the remaining Redcoats.
With his shotgun nearly out of ammo Rodrigo reached down to grab an AK-74 lying near a freshly deceased Redcoat while Artie scooped up an SWD/Cobray Street Sweeper near another man and took cover behind a shot up Clover that would be far beyond repair and thus worthless towards the completion of Rodrigo's assignment, but would still provide good cover as Artie popped out to drop a Redcoat that had been unaware of his presence.
"Shit, there's more of them!" a Redcoat tried calling out to his colleagues, only to be cut down by a barrage from Rodrigo's newly-acquired AK-74.
Artie switched his sights and took down a Redcoat that had been reaching for a Molotov cocktail before taking aim upon another red-clad hooligan and driving him straight into the sights of an M-4 carrying Ace.
"Who's the bitch now?" Rodrigo shouted as the shoe was now on the other foot and it was the Redcoats who were boxed in and being massacred left and right.
It was when Artie wound fire two shells into a tall muscular Redcoat in a blood red basketball jersey that the skirmish would conclude.
"Fuck yeah! The Aces always win you fucking pricks!" Rodrigo shouted to a freshly deceased rival, kicking the dead man hard in the side before adding insult to injury with a glob of saliva to the face.
Artie refrained from joining in the post-battle gloating, instead focusing on the red vehicles parked at haphazard angles. Most of them had been too far shot up to be of use, had their tires punctured, or were already smoking and on the verge of blowing up with the next barrage fired in their direction, unless Rodrigo truly was the master mechanic Kato made him out to be, or unless the Aces would have the money on them to carry out the said endeavor.
He found a Clover that aside from being side swiped by the Ace-owned Washington, having its windshield shattered by gunfire and being covered in a few splotches of blood, was largely undamaged and would have been usable for the 'General's' unnamed task.
With a nod to Rodrigo the hired gun made his way over to the muscle car and climbed inside, thankful he wouldn't have to waste precious seconds hotwiring it thanks to the keys still being in the ignition and feeling even more fortunate that they had been stopped in the Kasich district which directly adjoined Lincoln Shore, meaning it would be a shorter ride back to the storage units and within mere moments the hired gun was pulling the newly-acquired Clover up to the said location.
"Hey man, that was some good shit you did back there," Rodrigo said walking over and shaking hands with Artie, "I'm definitely gonna be putting in a good word for you with Darius. You earned it."
"Eh what can I say? All in a day's work," Artie nodded in reply.
"Whoa there cowboy, you ain't done yet. Remember, you still got two more tasks to go after this," the mechanic replied, "But I'd say this is a sign of good things to come."
Artie nodded and pulled out his cell phone to dial the number given him by Darius.
"Hey Darius, Rodrigo and I got those cars like you wanted. We just delivered the last one."
"Wow, you actually pulled it off without running away like a little puss, guess you're not as bad as we thought. For once Kato's ramblings might have some sort of sense behind them," the Aces leader laughed heartily.
"Yeah, now what's my next test?" Artie demanded.
"I need you to get over to the University district right away. Our treasurer Zivah is going to need help with an assignment so I need you to get your ass over there as soon as possible. She's usually pretty laid back, but for some reason really needs someone to get hopping."
"The University district? That's a little too far outta your normal boundaries isn't it?" the errand boy asked.
"You aren't here to be asking questions boy, now just get your ass over there," Darius shot back before the line went dead.
"Hmph, not the first time I've had somebody withholding shit from me and sadly it won't be the last," Artie ruefully sighed making his way around to the front of the café and finding himself enticed by the aromas from within, but decided to forego the distraction for the sake of not wanting to piss off the waiting lieutenant.
"Christ Artie, you said you'd avoid getting caught up in this kind of bullshit and now look at you. You're becoming someone else's bitch and you're not doing a damn thing to stop it. Thought you'd be over that shit once you got the hell outta Liberty," the voice within him spoke.
"Later," he muttered to the unseen voice making his way over to a silver Primo parked in front of the Aegean and smashing its driver's side window open. Not taking much time to hotwire it and turning up the radio's volume, its station set to The Traveler 107, which was currently playing some upbeat Celtic tune that seemed to somewhat distract him from the current goings on as he made his way for the next lieutenant.
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Author's Note: Okay there's been a little change of plans people. The rewrite of this chapter has definitely been longer than expected and I would include the tests Artie must go through with the other two Ace lieutenants, but then that would probably lead to this chapter being more than 40 pages long and I don't think many of you would be able to get through that all in one sitting, unless you're hardcore and are willing to keep a bedpan and pillow nearby.
Right now I am almost having a paranoid suspicion that I might have to make three different installments for each test Artie must go through since I'm getting the feeling that I might be bitten by the "Epic Chapter Syndrome" bug and throw in a whole hell of a lot more than I expected.
I would have waited until I completed the other installments before posting this online, but I figured why should I bother keeping you waiting? I'm not a fan of the thought of angry townspeople beating on my front door with pitchforks and torches in hand waiting to string me up because I kept them waiting far too long.
Now onto the other random mumbo jumbo, the guys Zeke and Co. are slated to go up against being based out of Reddick, Florida is taken from what was the original home of V-Rock as set in "Vice City Stories."
Malevolent Deceased is a spoof of the "Evil Dead" series starring Bruce Campbell and Peltface is a spoof of Leatherface from the "Texas Chainsaw Massacre" series.
Moto was inspired by Motor Runner from "Fallout: New Vegas" and I brought him in because I needed an excuse for Artie to use a chainsaw on somebody, which was definitely one of my favorite weapons to use in the GTA games and has been on my 'to do' list for quite some time with what goes on in this fic.
The Big Bends that appears in the Gold Digger is an actual in-game car that appears in GTA: London 1961. It is a two-door convertible sports car based on the Mercedes-Benz 300SL and my decision to have it in the main room like that is inspired by the death car from the Vikki and Vance Casino located at Primm in "Fallout: New Vegas."
Okay, in addition to telling you to read and review this is also typically the part where I say "SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME," but I can't do that just yet seeing how this chapter isn't technically finished…sucks I know.
Oh well, now onto Part 2!