Author's Note: Once again I was so eager to get something out before I had to head off to work that I forgot to include one vital detail.
In regards to the perks Artie can get from his friends, I would have it where similar to where if you decide to spare Dwayne Forge in GTA4 and get his likeability high enough, you would get two heavily-armed North Holland Hustlers to come back you up. In this case I would have it where if Artie is on good enough terms with the Aces he would just have to give Darius a call and they would send an entire car full of heavily-armed backup when things get too tight. I'd probably also have a friendship activity with them being where Artie can actually go over to the Gold Digger and hang out with them since their hideout is pretty spacious.
Chapter 30: Seeing Red
It was high noon and Artie was enjoying some lunch after just getting out of the shower, consisting of some tasty Hawt Sacks and a can of Funkin' Screw while watching the 12 o'clock news on RCNN-13.
The current scene was of firefighters sifting through the smoking wreckage of the former Toyz N' The Hood distribution warehouse while a reporter's voiceover played in the background.
"There is still no exact cause known behind the massive explosion that rocked the Camden Heights district yesterday afternoon, but with the numerous bodies and drug manufacturing equipment found inside it is suspected that it may have been related to gang-based activity. Authorities are refusing to comment on who could have possibly been involved, although local residents believe the Redcoats could have had a hand in the matter, when asked for comment this is what they had to say."
The scene then switched over to a Burger Shot where several of the red-clad gangsters were shown pushing their way out of the fast food joint.
"Get that fucking camera outta my face!" one of them snapped before withdrawing a blackjack and striking the cameraman, causing the camera itself to fall to the ground and the scene to cut to static before the live feed cut to another locale showing Cora Ricardo standing outside the Superstar Café.
"I am standing here outside the Superstar Café in Sawyer Gardens, where just hours ago there was a shooting involving what were believed to be members of the Banditelli Family Mafia and the Enlightened Path Triad," she explained as police officers stood before lines of yellow police tape to keep bystanders under control while paramedics were shown wheeling gurneys carrying covered bodies out of the restaurant and not too much further crime scene technicians were shown photographing a shot up black, white and gold Stinger. Just as she was about to interview an officer on the scene Artie had gotten bored and began shifting through channels until he happened across a soap opera.
"Next time, one 'One Load to Blow,'" an announcer's voiceover spoke from the background just as the scene cut to a couple in the throes of passion.
"Yes Chandler, I will suck your hard, throbbing cock and let you cover me in your baby gravy, but first there is one confession I must make," the woman spoke just as ominous organ music began playing in the background, "I'm really your sister!"
"Yeesh!" Artie said slamming down on the button to change the channel, feeling himself almost throw up inside his mouth until he happened across the Homegrown Purchasing Vision channel, currently broadcasting their 'Combat Corner' segment, where a short man with a horseshoe of frizzy red hair around his head, hawk-like nose, thick black-rimmed glasses and a soiled lab coat was in the middle of showing off a unique blade.
"Now this here is a beauty I call the 'Dilkri'," the man spoke in a thick Eastern European accent, proudly displaying a device which had the blade of a typical kukri curved knife, but with a handle shaped like a dildo, "the perfect combination of violence and pleasure all rolled into one!"
The scene then switched over to the man standing before a torso covered in ballistic gel, the title bar at the bottom of the screen introducing him as 'Hans Wankenstein.'
"Now you see, with the Dilkri all you need is skill, precision and a deft hand of speed as you go in for the kill," he explained before hacking away at the torso, leaving it a bloody mess, "You see, slight, deadly and quicker than a Bangkok whore going down on a horse cock," he explained before turning his attention towards a shapely brunette lying on a nearby bed.
"And then when you've eliminated your enemy in the most gruesome manner possible, you can go home and pleasure your wife," he explained before inserting the handle inside the woman and pushing a button which made it vibrate, forcing her to scream out in pleasure, "Consider this to be the perfect weapon for a single woman living in some rancid shithole like Liberty City or Los Santos, let the bidding begin at $99.95!"
Artie shook his head and changed the channel, cycling through a soccer game, a few more soap operas, a rerun of Princess Robot Bubblegum and some televangelist's inane ramblings before happening across a reality television program with a familiar face.
A balding blond-haired man with a bushy '70's porn star' mustache appeared on the screen and he instantly recognized him as Lazlow, the notorious D.J. who formerly hosted Chatterbox FM and then Integrity 2.0, standing outside the Grand Imperial Dragon Comics shop in LaFollette surrounded by several people dressed in Medieval-era costumes, an overhead banner indicating it was the annual 'Magic & Monsters Convention.'
"My god, you seriously mean to tell me people your age still dress in lime green underwear in broad daylight? No wonder you're all still a bunch of virgins living in your mother's basements!" Lazlow said getting into the face of a man dressed in a green and gold jester's outfit.
"Sire, you dare to defile the good name of our mortal realm?" another convention attendee asked, dressed in a piecemeal suit of armor made from plastic, cardboard and Papier-mache and carrying a fake morning star and shield, "Be gone at once with you and your demonic kind!" the man hollered whipping the TV host repeatedly with his weapon.
"That doesn't even hurt! It's made of plastic asshole!" Lazlow shouted before backing into a makeshift lance that ended up going 'where the sun doesn't shine.'
The sudden shrill of Artie's cell phone distracted him from the TV and he turned to pick it up, seeing that it was Darius calling and switched it on.
"What's up?" he asked reclining in his chair.
"I just saw what you and Rex did on the news. Hell of a job against those Redcoat bitches, I'd say you've done yourself a good enough job to be blessed into our ranks," the Aces leader boomed.
"It was an honor," the errand boy replied, trying to sound as enthusiastic as possible while at the same time wondering, "What the hell have I gotten myself into?"
"Well glad to hear it, but I'm afraid there won't be much time for you to sit around and rest on your laurels. This war we're in is a day to day thing we're dealing with and we've gotta be on top of those backstabbing motherfuckers until only one of us remains. I need you to get over to the Gold Digger right away. We've got another job for you and I'll explain more when you get here," Darius continued.
"Fine, I'll be over in a little bit," Artie replied before switching his phone off.
The hired gun was still clad in nothing but his boxers and he ran over to his wardrobe to grab a pair of blue and white track pants and a dark blue t-shirt before throwing on a pair of athletic shoes and then scooping up his Glock 22 and sliding it into his holster before grabbing a duffel bag and throwing in his SPAS-12 along with all the shells he could find.
Making his way down the back flight of stairs he approached the now cobalt-colored Sentinel, which had been repainted, had the windows repaired after being shot out, the license plates replaced, and had spent more than one day cleaning out the interior and delousing it after he had caught that rancid freak of nature Freda sleeping in the backseat, the thought of which still made him shudder in disgust and leaving him thinking that he may need to purchase a new car in the future.
Switching on his car he turned the station to Beatbox 102, currently playing "X Gon' Give It to Ya" by DMX and found himself caught in the middle of the high noon rush as he attempted to pull into traffic. Not giving a shit when he saw there were no cars coming from the opposite end, he pulled into the left lane and sped down Hymen Avenue, cutting onto the sidewalk to avoid an oncoming Flatbed that was transporting heavy construction equipment.
He had to wonder what Darius had in store for him today and what kind of action he would be taking against the Redcoats and their allies.
"Whack some important member? Bomb another drug lab? Steal some of their most prized possessions? Fuck one of their girlfriends just to get them pissed off? I wonder what's up for today. More importantly, I wonder how much these guys are capable of paying for a job well done. Fuck, I almost wonder if I'm packing enough firepower," Artie thought looking down to his duffel bag carrying the SPAS-12 and knowing how the Redcoats always traveled in a pack, knowing lots of firepower would be necessary as he looked out his window.
There had been a Remington lowrider in the lane next to him waiting at the stoplight, where the pimp inside chattered away on his cell phone while his ho', a barely legal Filipina looked uneasily towards him.
The screech of tires suddenly snapped the man out of his conversation and before he knew it, a Redcoat Clover was pulling up alongside him and the passenger was unloading a volley of automatic fire into him, showering the pimp's 'employee' in his blood and brain matter. Fortunately the Redcoats didn't appear interested in anyone else and sped along before the group of rubberneckers could gather.
It was of no concern to Artie as long as they weren't targeting him and he continued on his way to the Lincoln Shore district, where a few bikini-clad women milled about, as did some fishers, roller skaters and even a few people goofing around on some Quads out on the beachfront.
He pulled up outside the Gold Digger and made his way to the same door Kato led him to during his last visit. This time the doormen were much more accommodating and led him into the main club area where he found Darius, Rodrigo, Zivah, Rex, Kato, Sala, Philly, Jason, Koji, Lexie and a few others gathered.
"Hey! There's the badass mass murderin' motherfucker himself!" Rex called out raising his beer to greet the hired gun, followed by a few hoots and hollers from the lower Aces, Artie smirking at the compliment as he went over to shake hands with Darius.
"Good to see you again playa', have a seat," he said motioning towards a comfortable-looking armchair.
"So what's on the agenda today?" Artie asked looking around to those gathered, wondering if the number currently present was all that remained of the Aces street gang.
"We're going to be killing three birds with one stone so to speak. As you know, we're grossly outnumbered by those Redcoat bitches and their butt buddies the Hellcats and the Yardies. Right now if we tried to go head on with them, we'd be having to incur the wrath of all three factions…in other words, they'd wipe the fucking floor with us," Darius explained, drawing a disbelieving stare from the ultra-macho Rex.
"So how do you plan to 'remedy' the situation?" Artie asked leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.
Darius reclined in his chair and reached into a nearby cooler for a Blowenkoch, slamming it on a nearby table to break the cap off and taking a long swig before continuing.
"We need to find a way to dissolve their alliance and to accomplish that we're gonna need to do something that's pretty fucking hardcore," he replied before setting down his beer and looking down to his cell phone to see what time it was, "I ordered one of my boys to take out a Redcoat and bring us his vehicle intact. Once he gets here, I want you to dress up in the guy's clothes and then go around the Hellcat and Yardie controlled territories and raise as much hell as possible. I don't give a damn if you have to shoot 'em up, blow 'em up or run 'em over. We've gotta do whatever we can to get them murdering each other instead of us."
"And then when the smoke clears, you guys move in to pick the bones?" Artie asked looking over to some guns lying on a nearby craps table.
"Bingo," Darius replied with a snap of his fingers.
"Fuck this 'lone wolf' stuff you're gonna make him do," Rex said rising to his feet and hefting up his nearby S.A.W., "Don't you think we should at least send the guy in with some backup?"
"Normally I'd be inclined to agree with your way of thinking and even surprised at the fact that you're saying something other than 'roll in there and shoot 'em all up,' but at the same time I've gotta ask are you insane or just too fucking stupid?" Lexie asked getting in Rex's face, "They'd sure as hell know your mug when they'd see it after all the Redcoats you've slaughtered, what was the amount of that bounty they had on your head the last time I heard?"
"Not to mention you've got a record longer than a horse's cock, meaning you're more likely to lead the pigs right to our front door and I doubt there are many other places on this island where we can hide out," Zivah added, getting nods of approval from Kato, Rodrigo, Philly and Koji.
"Pfft! Pussies!" Rex growled in defeat looking over to Jason, whose expression told him he sided with the others, leaving the muscle man feeling even more deflated as Darius' phone rang.
"What's up?" the General asked his caller before nodding, "Alright, you got it here. Good job, I'm sending the guy out right now."
Darius then turned to Artie, "That was J.T., he's got what you'll be needing for this job, so you best get your ass out there and talk to the guy.
"I'm on it," Artie nodded making his way for the door.
"And make it fuckin' bloody, no pussy shit!" Rex called out, earning stares of disgust from Lexie and Zivah.
Outside a red and white Clover pulled into view, the trademark transportation of the Redcoats, and a tall man with his brown hair shaved closely to his head and wearing a dark blue jacket stepped out.
"You Artie?" the man asked.
"That would be me," the errand boy replied as the man walked over to shake his hand.
"J.T. Worth, nice to meet you," the man introduced himself before making his way towards the trunk of the car, where a few streaks of blood seeped out from beneath the lid. Pulling out a crowbar the Ace pried the lid open and right away Artie was knocked backwards by the rancid stench of the bludgeoned body of a Redcoat foot soldier crammed inside.
"Alright, we just need to get the clothes off this bastard and you'll be ready to go," J.T. said pulling out a baseball bat covered in dried bits of brain, the likely murder weapon.
"Wait, you're at least going to wash them aren't you?" Artie asked as some Aces came to help unload the body.
J.T. laughed nervously scratching the back of his neck, "I'm afraid not…heh heh…"
"What?" Artie screamed, "No fucking way in hell am I going to put another man's clothes on when they still have fresh blood on them! Absolutely no fucking way! I'm not that fucking sick!"
"Hey bro', I just did as I was told," J.T. said raising his hands defensively, "I was told to whack a Redcoat of a certain size and then bring his body and his car back, that's it. I was never given any orders to stop by a Laundromat!"
"Goddamn it!" Artie spat angrily kicking a trashcan over, "I'm so gonna have Darius' fucking head for this!"
XXXXXXXXXXXX
Fortunately the clothes hadn't been as stained as Artie thought they would be and he was now clad in a disguise consisting of a bright red trench coat, black t-shirt, tan cargo pants, black combat boots, black fingerless gloves and a black bandana.
"Alright, I'm good to go," the errand boy said outstretching his hand to receive the Clover's keys.
"You know where those bastards hang out. Do whatever you have to get them hating the Redcoats," J.T. said opening his car door for him, "I never thought I'd be saying this, but just don't kill any Redcoats, we don't want you blowing your cover."
"I'll try not to," Artie replied before switching on the car and leaving it on the current station, Old School 97.3, in hopes of fitting in. He had no idea what these guys typically listened to and didn't want to give himself away by playing 94.3 CSKD, Radio GX or the Rock of Rushmore stations he usually listened to.
He made his way out of the Lincoln Shore district as "The Humpty Dance" by Digital Underground played on, noting a few Aces standing around outside an abandoned Ammu-Nation having a few beers. Normally he assumed they would have stopped everything to draw their guns the second they spotted a Redcoat vehicle on their turf, but he could breathe a sigh of relief for now knowing they had obviously been tipped off to his presence.
He entered the adjoining Kasich district where he noticed the pedestrians staring worriedly at him as he drove by, an obvious sign of how fearful they were of the actual Redcoats. It left him wondering if they viewed the Aces in the same apprehensive manner, unaware the blue-clad avengers might have actually been trying to look out for them compared to their self-centered red-clad adversaries.
Deciding to go with what was closer at the moment he passed through the Horgate district and was soon pulling into Little Jamaica, the Yardies' home base.
"Alright, where are you motherfuckers?" he asked aloud carefully scanning the horizon for any of the Jamaican gangbangers, seeing mostly vendors plying their trades at small booths set up on the street corners and a small reggae band set up in a nearby park.
Eventually he came across the Crimson Matters punk-themed clothing store, where a Yardie dealt drugs to some gothic teens outside. Pulling to a halt behind the man's Lobo he got out and waited for the deal to conclude before making his presence felt.
"Aw righty then, ya' bes' be on yer way nah!" the dealer said dismissing the teens before turning his attention to Artie, "Eh mon! How ya' be today?" he called out merrily, believing Artie to be a friendly face.
Taking a deep breath the hired gun withdrew his Glock and fired three shots into the dealer's face, sending pedestrians scattering in all directions. It had frightened them yes, but there were no other Yardies around to witness the cold-blooded slaying of one of their own.
"There's gotta be more of those pricks around here," he thought to himself noticing all the money the dead dealer dropped and quickly scooped it up for himself counting over three hundred dollars.
Climbing back into the car he sped down the street and continued about until he saw another Yardie outside the Morgana's Castle toy store attacking a man in a white rabbit costume. Speeding up the car, he cut onto the sidewalk and slammed head on into the gang member, missing the rabbit by inches and sending the Caribbean man flying high into the air, landing hard on his side and breaking his right leg and hip along with several of his ribs.
Artie got out of the car and found the Yardie barely alive, his leg bent at an awkward angle that left him wanting to throw up, the man looking up to him and reaching out weakly. Without mercy, the hitman fired a blast into the injured man's chest.
"Oh thank god!" the man in the rabbit suit called out, "Thank you so much! That guy thought I owed him money and he was trying to kill me!"
Unfortunately for the nameless man, Artie was freaked out by his costume and he cried out in horror, firing on instinct and striking him in the chest, painting the area of his white rabbit outfit a dark shade of crimson.
"Fucking rabbit!" he gasped, remembering how his cousin Raphael had ambushed him in a similar costume as a child, an incident which left him dreading Easter for years after.
"Eh, what cha' think ya' be doin'?" an accented voice called out and Artie turned around to find two angry Yardies marching towards him.
Without a word, the errand boy drew his SPAS-12 and fired a blast into the stomach of the Yardie closest to him, sending the man sagging to the pavement like a ton of bricks.
"Muthafucka' be crazy!" the second Yardie called out reaching for his sidearm.
Artie fired again, but this man was quicker and dove for cover behind a parked Glendale, grazed by a few shell fragments as he fell behind the car. He raised his gun and squeezed off a few rounds, shattering the glass behind his target. Before he could fire again, the disguised hitman fired another shotgun blast into his chest and the man was finished by the following crater.
"Hey, he be killin' our bruddas!" another Yardie called out emerging from a nearby massage parlor while struggling to pull up his pants.
Artie saw the man coming and fired a blast in his direction, but this man too would dive for cover and withdrew a MAC-10, popping out to fire a barrage before nearly tripping over his sagging pants.
The disguised errand boy dove for cover behind his Clover, the bullets pinging off its metallic surface as he shouldered his shotgun and withdrew the Glock. Raising the handgun he fired a few more rounds, missing his target before being forced to duck. He was preparing to fire again when he heard the thumping bass of a car stereo drawing closer and saw a Huntley Sport come fishtailing around a nearby corner. Rather than charging head on in an attempt to run him over, the S.U.V. came to a halt and its heavily-armed occupants stepped out.
"What the hell ya' be doin'? We're on ya' side, we partnahs mon!" the driver called out.
Artie ignored the man and again drew his shotgun, firing a barrage through the driver's side door, shattering the glass and catching the Jamaican thug in his face, throat and chest.
"You gon' be sorry traitah!" another Yardie called out as they opened fire simultaneously upon the hitman, forcing him around to the Clover's opposite side and finally giving him the needed opening to take out the gangster that had been in front of him with a salvo to his stomach.
Two of the Yardies attacked him with machine pistols while the other carried a Remington shotgun, all of them firing relentlessly upon the believed traitor.
Artie was pinned down, yet at the same time he smiled, hopeful he had just done irreparable damage to the Redcoat/Yardies alliance.
"Now I've just gotta make it outta here alive so I can sit back and watch them paint the streets with each other's blood," he thought firing another barrage and catching one of the men in his left kneecap. The Yardie screamed in pain, but continued limping towards him until he was finally put down by a flesh ripping torrent to the chest.
"You and ya' backstabbing bredren gon' pay!" the shotgun-toting Yardie called out before rolling for cover behind a dumpster and pumping off a few slugs in succession.
Artie waited patiently for the rival gangster to reload and as the man popped out, he stuck his arm out and fired a volley into his stomach, squeezing off an additional round into the man's head as he sunk to his knees.
One Yardie remained and he fired desperately towards the errand boy until his clip ran dry. Sticking his arm out, Artie fired blindly and grazed the man along his shoulder, forcing him to drop his gun.
He stepped out into the open and watched as the man bolted away from the gunfight. It was tempting to open fire, but Artie stopped himself knowing he would need the man alive so he could tell the other Yardies of the Redcoats' supposed treachery.
"Oh yes, go tell your 'brothers.' I can barely wait to see the fireworks," Artie snickered to himself climbing back into the Clover and gunning it out of Little Jamaica before reinforcements could show up.
Now that he had pissed off the Yardies his next destination would be anywhere he knew the Hellcats frequented, soon finding himself in the Jansport district.
"Alright, c'mon out you bitches," Artie whispered as he knew of the Hellcats' fondness for rock music and turned on Rock of Rushmore 89.5, which was appropriately enough playing Ted Nugent's "Cat Scratch Fever."
He moved along until he passed the Jack Doff Sports Bar and Grill, where he found two Hellcats in the middle of working on a Dukes' engine. Seeing them left in a vulnerable position, he raised his Glock and prepared to fire…until a police cruiser pulled into the parking lot a couple stalls over from the gang-owned muscle car.
"Son of a bitch," Artie cursed, slamming his balled fist into the steering wheel in frustration.
Coming to a halt at a stoplight he suddenly noticed the yellow icon on the display console coming on, telling him he would need to stop and get gas.
Seeing a nearby 24/7 he made his way in and pulled up to the nearest pump. Getting out he selected unleaded gas and unscrewed the gas cap, sticking the hose in and clicking it into place as the gas started pumping. With nothing better to do, Artie stood idly with his hands in his pockets, yawning in boredom as he looked around to observe the blue collar average Joes and Janes milling about on their daily routines. When the hose's trigger clicked to let him know the tank was full he resumed the task at hand.
"Alright, gonna show the people around here that some gangsters are actually honest enough to pay for things around here," he told himself as he entered the convenience store.
It was relatively quiet save for the background music and rattle of an unseen grocery cart being pushed around. A lone employee minded the register, looking as if he were on the verge of falling asleep. Aside from him there was an old woman sticking cans in a hand basket, an Asian man who chatted on a cell phone while sifting through magazines on a nearby rack and the cart pusher, who turned out to be a woman of Middle Eastern descent wearing the traditional headscarf.
Artie was about to pay for the gas and resume his mission when the electronic ding called out and he looked towards the sliding double doors to see four Hellcats strolling into the store, hooting and hollering loudly like they owned the place.
"That's nothing, the other day I shot one of those Ace bitches in the back of the head, fucker never even saw it coming!" a thug at the back of the pack called out.
The cashier sprung to life and stared nervously towards the tan-clad gang members, then taking notice of Artie's disguise and looking like he was about to wet himself.
The other patrons noticed the boastful gang members and hurriedly made their way towards the front counter, where the clerk attempted to go about business as usual.
"Holy shit, dude what's up?" a voice called out and Artie turned to see one of the Hellcats calling out to him.
The four rival members stopped everything they were doing and made their way over to him.
"Great," he muttered under his breath as the guy at the front patted him hard on the shoulder.
"I didn't know you guys were gonna be in the area today. Good to see a brother from another mother dropping in for a visit," the Hellcat chuckled.
"Yeah, been a while," Artie replied trying to make eye contact and sound as enthusiastic as possible.
"Been out blasting any of those Ace motherfuckers lately?" another asked.
"Yeah, as a matter of fact, I blasted some motherfucker in the balls before I shot out both his knees and let him scream like a bitch before I bashed his fucking skull in!" Artie whooped, trying to use the same descriptive level of gore he would expect from the bloodthirsty men standing before him.
His comment elicited wild laughter from the others, "Fuck yeah man! That's how Redcoats and Hellcats roll!" a third thug shouted, "Pretty soon we're gonna find out where those bitches crash, flush 'em out and then smoke 'em out!" the man hollered, unafraid of who would overhear him if anybody. It just went to show how much sway the three rival gangs held over the island, basically able to get away with whatever they pleased and not caring who they would have to go through in order to do so.
Artie said nothing, staring at the man warily and wondering what they would be planning next.
"Yeah, I hope the boss lets me personally blow Darius McLaren's fucking head off. I've always hated that motherfucker," the fourth thug spoke.
"I doubt that'll happen, but I wouldn't mind fucking that Zivah chick they have with them before we kill her," the second thug whooped excitedly.
"Or that Lexie," the third spoke up making a tongue rolling noise.
"They might be Aces, but goddamn they've still got some killer bodies," the lead thug added, "just can't say that around Pryde, he'd likely shoot my dick off for saying something like that. You know how fanatical he is after that one sergeant of theirs killed both his brothers, what's the guy's name? Oh yeah, J.T. I think it was!"
The name instantly rang a bell with Artie, the Ace who had acquired the car and man's clothes for him.
"Don't worry, pretty soon those Aces'll regret the day they crossed our path," the lead thug continued as he made his way towards the restroom and the others split up to get what they needed, "Remember to get some whipped cream, you know Mako has some wild shit planned for later on."
"Mako?" Artie asked.
"Mako our lieutenant," the third thug replied, "It's his birthday today and we're having a party for him over at the Lava Lounge."
"It's fucking epic man! Booze, boobs and blow!" the fourth thug hollered, "Gotta get goin' while the pussy's still warm!"
When the other Hellcats made their way out of sight Artie made his way to the restroom and looked over his shoulder before entering.
The lead thug was still in the middle of relieving himself at the center urinal when the hired gun approached the urinal next to him and pretended to take a leak.
"So what's this I'm hearing about you guys planning a big raid on the Aces' hideout?" Artie asked, "I haven't had much contact with our hierarchy lately, so I've been on the outside for the most part in terms of information."
"They've been planning it out for a while," the blond-haired man replied, "Our boss, along with yours and King Charlie wanna find out where they hide out and then send an entire hit squad after them. From what I've heard it's gonna be fucking epic!"
"How so?" Artie asked keeping his ears wide open and ready to soak in whatever information was about to come his way.
The Hellcat looked at him in confusion for a few seconds before the confident smirk returned to his face, "The King's got this huge shipment coming in, gonna be all sorts of heavy artillery and hell, we might even be able to purchase a few A.P.C.'s on the black market…maybe even a tank! Fuck, from what he's been saying we might even be able to get our hands on an Annihilator!"
Artie almost paled at the mention of the brand of infamous attack helicopter, "Really?"
"Hell yeah, as we speak the King's trying to reach through to his contacts in the Colombian Cartel and they're hoping to get the stuff over here little by little. They've got contacts in the Coast Guard who can get the shit past the blockade, seeing as they're the only ones who can go back and forth in the water without question after the way our prick government has us isolated from the rest of the world," the thug replied zipping up his pants and making his way over to the sink.
"Not only that, they can get us drugs and plenty of people to smuggle here into the city, limitless funds for us. I tell you, it's gonna be fucking epic!" he laughed.
"It definitely sounds like that, but I don't think it's gonna be happening anytime soon," Artie spoke and before the man could react, grabbed him by the back of his jacket's collar and shoved him face first into the mirror.
The glass cracked beneath the man's face and he was soon thrown into the corner, where Artie would drive his fist repeatedly into the man's stomach. "It's gonna be you Hellcats that are history!" he growled while delivering an uppercut to the man's jaw, "You, the Yardies and the-"
Before the beating could continue the door swung open and Artie turned to see one of the Hellcats entering.
"Dude, what the fuck?" the man asked in disbelief.
The thug Artie had been hammering on reached for his gun, but the hitman spotted him and grabbed him by the arm, forcing him to squeeze his trigger twice, catching the entering man in the leg and sending him falling to the floor. Overpowering the Hellcat, Artie then forced him to fire a round into his right foot before knocking him out with a vicious right hook.
"What the hell's going on back there?" the third Hellcat called out as he and his remaining colleague appeared in the aisle before them.
Artie said nothing and opened fire, dropping both men with repeated rounds to the chest before the gun he confiscated ran dry and he casually tossed it aside.
"Motherfucker, we trusted you!" the wounded Hellcat called out as he scrambled for a gun that lay inches away from him, the pain in his leg too intense for him to pull himself over without a great struggle.
"Well you trusted the wrong people," Artie laughed harshly, drawing his shotgun and firing a point blank round of buckshot into the man's cranium, splattering bits of bone, brain and blood all over the black and white tile floor.
With the four Hellcats taken care of he rushed out of the convenience store, ignoring the cowering clerk, and made his way towards the Clover and throwing himself inside, knowing he would need to leave a witness next time.
"I know that punk in the bathroom is still alive, but that doesn't count. He was out cold," Artie told himself as he pulled into traffic and sped away from the scene, looking into his rearview mirror to see an ambulance already approaching the 24/7.
Artie's mission was not over and he would need to find Hellcats to terrorize, anywhere there was more than one lurking around so he could find that elusive witness needed to ensure his job would be a success.
Then he remembered the one thug saying something about the Lava Lounge, where a birthday party was being held for one of their lieutenants.
The building would be packed with Hellcats, too many to kill, but enough for him to leave witnesses behind.
"Time to piss off some Hellcats," Artie said with a vile smirk as he made his way through Lincoln Island and towards the Eastwood Bridge that would take him to Washington Dell.
The drive had taken much longer than expected due to all the traffic, safe to say the residents of Washington Dell did not harbor the same level of alarm towards the Redcoats as did the citizens of Lincoln Island, therefore the motorists of Sawyer Gardens weren't as quick to pull out of the way as would a resident of Horgate.
It wasn't long before Artie was driving into Gomorrah and soon pulling to a halt in the parking lot adjoining the purple building that was the Lava Lounge and surely enough there were a couple Dukes and a Slamvan along with a few tan-colored Sultan street racers bearing the trademark flame decals of the rival gang.
A decent sized line had already formed at the front entrance, where a muscular security guard was in the middle of arguing with a younger bespectacled man in a Cyber Dude t-shirt that barely rose above his kneecap.
"Sorry pal, this looks too fake to me," the bald guard replied as he carefully inspected the kid's driver's license.
"Dude, I'm seriously 21 years old!" the nerd replied, "Look at me, I've got fucking facial hair!" he said tugging at the hairs on his small goatee to prove it wasn't a disguise.
"Yeah right, the guard chuckled crossing his tree trunk-like arms over his broad chest, "That's what some 12 year old said just a few weeks ago to gain access here and then next thing you know, he gets drunk, steals a car, gets into an accident and then we get sued. The little bastard shaved off his father's pubic hair and glued it to his face! After that incident we're not taking any more chances. Now you need to get the fuck out of here or else I'm gonna rip more than just those pubes off your face!" he demanded tossing the man's ID to the ground.
"Next!" the black-shirted man called out as it was time for the next guest to step up, an attractive Cuban woman with stylishly cut short black hair and wearing a silver cocktail dress. "Go right on in ma'am," he said before the woman could pull out her ID and winked at her as she strolled in.
"Competent staff they've got here," Artie sarcastically thought as he waited in line behind ten additional people and tried to remain patient.
"Okay next," the doorman called out, but then stopped the man approaching as he took notice of Artie.
"Um, you can go right on in sir!" he said pushing the man aside, "No need to make him wait! Let the gentleman through!" he ordered.
Artie ignored the filthy glares he received as he made his way to the entrance, stopping to size up the doorman before going in.
"Are you serious?" he asked tilting his head awkwardly.
Here stood a man who had to be nearly seven feet tall and had muscles upon muscles, looking like he could very well have been a star football player back in high school, probably even making up the entire defensive line based upon his size alone. No doubt this was a man who could have given him a serious run for his money in a hand-to-hand duel. Fuck that shit, taking his man head on would have been damned near suicidal!
And yet here he was cowering before him based upon a disguise alone.
"Please, you're good to go, now just go inside and have yourself a good ol' time," the guard replied hurriedly, "Next!"
"Man, people around here sure are scared of the Redcoats. Perhaps I was wrong, maybe the fear of these punks goes beyond even Lincoln Island," the hired gun thought to himself making his way inside, only to find his ears assaulted by some of the most god awful singing he had ever heard.
In what was normally a pretty lively dance club, most of the patrons stood about staring at the stage, where a sign indicated it was 'Thursday Karaoke Wars.'
Onstage an Arabic man in a horrendous lime green suit was in the middle of belting out Lady Gaga's "Poker Face."
(A/N: To really get the humor I'm intending to convey in this particular scene I'll tell you to just picture Yusuf Amir from "The Ballad of Gay Tony" trying to sing this song. As much as I can't stand Lady Gaga, in my own demented mind I'm able to picture him singing this song and it never fails to crack me up. This scene was inspired by that one episode of South Park that spoofs "Whale Wars" where Stan is trying to combat Japanese whaling, this episode shows Cartman singing the aforementioned song on "Rock Band.")
"Can't read my, can't read my, no he can't read my poker face!" the man shouted into the microphone before shifting his tone, "She's got to love nobody!" he screamed in the tone of a constipated man on the toilet.
"This guy sucks! No wonder this place is dead!" a patron shouted before hammering down his drink.
"P-P-P-Poker face! P-p-poker face!" the man screamed before following up with the "Mum mum mum mah! P-P-P-Poker face! P-p-poker face!"
"You suck! Get off the stage asshole!" another patron called out flashing his middle finger.
"Who needs suicide bombing when we've gotta put up with your piss poor singing?" yet another shouted before tossing his drink at the singing man.
Artie did what he could to shut out the man's piss poor singing and focused on the bar area, where he spotted a few Hellcats ordering drinks.
"Bingo," he said slowly stalking his way to the bar just as the men were leaving and making their way towards a back corridor.
Following them from a safe distance Artie made his way through a red door into a mauve-colored corridor and watched as they disappeared around a corner. Hugging the wall, he crept along until he came to the edge and watched them go through a door manned by a lone Hellcat carrying a Steyr TMP submachine gun.
"Gonna be like shooting fish in a barrel," he thought to himself as he approached the door with a shit-eating grin, knowing the guard would receive him without incident.
"Hey man, I didn't know any Redcoats were gonna be here. Oh well, I'll let the others know you're coming," the man said, but before he could reach for the door Artie was grabbing him and driving his face into the nearby wall before pulling him back and with some effort, snapping the man's neck.
"Nah, I figured I'd surprise them," Artie said dragging the man's body into an alcove and then looting all of his ammo.
Approaching the door he took a deep breath and made his way into a small party room where the Hellcats gathered, either getting their drink on, snorting coke, dancing to the music, or attempting to score with one of the several prostitutes brought in as an in-house D.J. blasted "Pussy" by Lords of Acid on his sound system.
"At least they'll be going down with smiles on their faces," he told himself as he watched a Hellcat on the loveseat next to him with a hooker on his lap and snorting cocaine off of her breasts.
"Hey, it's one of our red brothers!" a voice called out and he turned to see several of the Hellcats raising their beers to him.
"Come join my party brother!" shouted an African-American thug in a tan-colored hoodie and wearing a pair of wraparound shades, his black hair styled in dreadlocks and pulled back into a ponytail. Artie assumed that had to be Mako.
"Somebody get this guy a beer!" the Hellcat lieutenant shouted and on cue an underling was reaching into a cooler and tossing him a Blowenkoch.
Popping the cap Artie quickly downed the ice cold liquid before tossing the emptied bottle aside.
"As a matter of fact I will be," he replied raising the TMP and before the tan-clad men closest to him could react he was spraying the room down with automatic fire, killing many where they stood and even hitting a few prostitutes as they scampered about, their ear-piercing shrieks much louder than the gunfire.
The thug on the loveseat tossed his hooker aside and attempted to tackle the hired gun, but he was quickly dispatched as Artie knocked him out cold with the butt of his rifle. A second man would attempt to drop him as well, only to also find himself receiving the stock upside the head and a third man broke his beer bottle in an attempt to stab him, only to eat a four round burst to his sternum.
"Backstabbing bastard! You're gonna die!" one of the Hellcats called out as a few of the survivors managed to reach their guns and returned fire.
"Okay, I think I've pissed them off enough. Time to split," he thought as the walls around him were soon peppered with lead, whirling on his heel and bolting down the hall.
"Don't let that motherfucker get away! Fucking kill him goddamn it!" Mako shouted, lying on the floor with a dead hooker lying on top of him, weakened by three rounds perforating his side.
Hearing the screams coming from the main room Artie decided it would be too hazardous to try escaping through there and took notice of the sign pointing to the nearest exit overhead, telling them he wasn't far away.
He dove around a corner just as a volley of rounds cut through the air behind him and he threw himself through the backdoor, running around the building and making his way towards the parking lot. Just as he passed the front entrance two Hellcats would emerge, shoving the doorman aside and opening fire with MP5's.
The hitman dove for cover behind an abandoned taxi and returned fire, dropping one of the rival gangsters with a shot to the shoulder, wounding but not killing him before he resumed his sprint for the Clover and he approached the waiting muscle car, whirling around to fire upon the remaining gangster and managing a one in a million shot that knocked the submachine gun from his hands. With the two men temporarily incapacitated he threw himself into the Clover and sped away.
"Alright, I suppose Darius will be wanting proof that they're murdering each other," Artie told himself as he sped back towards Lincoln Island and made his way back towards the closest known Redcoat territory, which happened to be Stilsen.
Eventually he came across a small park where several Redcoats gathered, either drinking, smoking or head banging to the heavy metal they were playing on a nearby boombox, which happened to be "Call from the Grave" by Bathory.
Taking a right into a nearby alley he pulled up behind the small park and walked out to be greeted by the red-clad gangsters.
"Hey, what's up brother?" one of the Redcoats called out, waving Artie over to the small gathering.
"Nothing, just chilling as usual," the hired gun casually replied looking up to the surrounding buildings, "I need to find a place where I can get a good shot," he thought looking down to his Whiz wireless phone.
After having had further time to explore its features he learned that it also has the ability to record video and he was hopeful that would come in handy sooner than later.
Seeing the door left open on a nearby apartment complex Artie made his way inside and climbed the stairs to the second floor, finding an empty dilapidated flat where he was given an obstructed view of the park below.
"They should be through here any moment now," he told himself as he knelt before an opened window, feeling he had all the time in the day to wait for a coming massacre.
He wouldn't have to wait long as he could hear the revving of numerous muscle car engines coming from one direction and the throbbing bass of reggae music from the other.
"Oh yeah, it's on now," he almost giggled as the Hellcat and Yardie gang vehicles skidded to a halt in front of the park and he pushed the button on his phone to record.
"Hey guys what brings you-" one of the Redcoats managed to speak before a Yardie cut him down with a blast from his AKM.
The other red-clad gang members looked on in confusion before they were cut down by a combined barrage from their vengeful soon-to-be former allies. Within seconds the last Redcoat was left writhing in pain with both of his kneecaps shot out beneath him before a Yardie grabbed him by the hair and proceeded to hack his head from his shoulders with a machete.
"Alright, I think this'll be good enough for Darius," Artie whispered hitting the button to stop the recording and then pushing another to send the video clip to the Aces general's cell phone.
Within seconds he was receiving a phone call from the recipient.
"Please tell me you've had the chance to see that in its entirety," Artie half-shouted over the rattle of gunfire from outside.
"Hell yeah, every little bit of it! You sure did yourself a damned good job out there and we're damn proud of you!" the general proudly boomed.
"Eh, did what I could. Glad you approve," Artie chuckled.
"Yeah, you'd better get your ass outta there right now. Get rid of the car and get rid of that disguise," Darius ordered.
"Yeah, I'm gonna need to talk to you face to face. Apparently they had something big planned, something you definitely need to hear about," Artie reported as he watched a red and white Burrito packed with Redcoat reinforcements arrive and begin piling out, returning fire with their vengeful allies turned enemies.
"Alright, just get your ass outta there as soon as possible," Darius said before hanging up.
Putting his phone away, Artie made his way down the stairs and was going to take a back door to the alley where he parked the Clover when some of those Redcoats came piling in trying desperately to escape a gunfight they were losing, only to find themselves cut down by a volley of TMP fire.
"Dere be anudder one!" a rifle-wielding Yardie called out, followed by a dreadlocked accomplice carrying a sawn-off shotgun.
Whirling around the hired gun fired a barrage that took down the AK guy with a fatal shot to the heart and caught the other one repeatedly in the chest; his heavy wheezing indicating one of his lungs was punctured.
Artie scrambled into the back alley and listened to the screams, gunfire and explosions of the battle at hand. As tempting as it was to sit back and watch them murder each other, he knew he wasn't safe and had to get out of there. First things first, he needed to get rid of the Clover and suddenly thought of the car crusher over in Jansport.
Moving down the back alley he made his way onto the street where the fighting was going down and looked to see the three rival factions still shooting it out as two N.O.O.S.E. Enforcers came speeding into view and a Police Maverick circled overhead.
Unfortunately for Artie, one of the Hellcats in a Slamvan spotted him and began chasing after him, both occupants peppering his Clover with automatic fire.
Furthermore, he was fast approaching the end of the street, where N.O.O.S.E. agents had set up a barricade consisting of their Patriots and some wooden sawhorses.
"Incoming!" one of the agents called out and they simultaneously opened fire, shattering his windshield, shooting off the side mirrors, loosening the hood and puncturing both front tires, causing the Clover to fishtail wildly.
"I'm not going down this easily," he told himself as he struggled to maintain his grip on the steering wheel and slammed the pedal to the floor, causing the muscle car's hood to go flying off.
"Shit, he's gonna ram us!" another officer cried and several of them scampered out of the way.
Bracing himself, Artie forced the Clover through the small opening between the Patriots and the car made a complete rotation before he was able to regain control.
The Slamvan wasn't as lucky and crashed head on into one of the Patriots, the agents swarming the van and pulling out the two Hellcats inside.
In spite of the punctured front tires Artie didn't slow down and continued to floor it all the way over to the Jansport district until the junkyard was within sight and he slammed on the brakes as he approached the gate, swerving sideways and getting T-boned by a Rebla.
"Hey, why don't you watch where you're going you fucking asshole?" the driver screamed, climbing out of his car with a golf club in hand.
The hired gun grunted and climbed out, drawing his SPAS-12 to fire a warning shot in the air, but then the man suddenly halted dead in his tracks.
"Terribly sorry! Please don't kill me!" the man cried in terror, dropping his golf club and throwing himself back into his car before pulling a U-turn and taking off in the opposite direction, his wife screaming the entire time.
"No doubt it's the uniform," he thought as the gate now opened and he pulled inside, parking the car beneath the crane and watching as it lifted the badly damaged gang car into its compactor.
"Alright, now to get rid of these clothes," Artie whispered running back through the gate and looking around for any kind of transport, knowing a SubUrban was located in the adjoining Komojack Downs.
Hearing the sounds of battle in the distance only heightened the urgency and he saw Bobcat, but it was moving too fast for him to catch up. Looking to his right, his only option would be the Lowrider bicycle in the rack and he used his Glock to shoot the chain off.
Artie climbed on and peddled as fast as he could over to the Komojack Downs district and by the time he was in front of the SubUrban he was heavily winded and his leg muscles throbbed. He almost collapsed, bracing himself against the building and regaining his breath before entering the store.
"Hello and welcome to SubUrban," the cashier unenthusiastically called out, a young man around Zeke's age with short, shaggy black hair and wearing a Radio GX t-shirt. Aside from him there were three other patrons milling about, none of them paying attention to the hired gun.
"Good," he muttered making his way for the racks, grabbing a pair of olive-colored jeans, a Base 5 hoodie, Vile Crud t-shirt (which he knew would please Zeke), and a pair of black and blue Low-Tops.
He made his way over to the front counter, where the cashier had been too busy playing air guitar to Guns n' Roses "You Could Be Mine" blasting over the store's sound system.
"Excuse me," Artie called out dropping the clothes loudly on the counter and startling the man.
"Oh, terribly sorry," the man muttered before ringing up his order, "Can I interest you in a complimentary Vile Crud E.P.?" the cashier asked while bagging his clothing.
"No, but thanks anyway," the errand boy said accepting the bag.
"Keep on fighting the man!" the cashier shouted, giving him the "Devil horns" hand gesture as he walked away.
"Uh yeah, sure," Artie said making his way towards the fitting rooms and changing into his brand new clothes, tossing his disguise into a nearby trashcan.
"Now to get the hell back over to Darius and the boys," he said looking around for another method of transportation, spotting a Stallion convertible nearby. He ran over and flung himself into the vehicle, hotwiring it and taking off towards the Lincoln Shore district, knowing he would have to stay on the back roads to avoid the battle taking place.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Within minutes Artie was back at the Gold Digger and ready to explain things to the Aces higher-ups.
"Darius, you and the guys are going to need to be extra vigilant. I overheard one of the Hellcats saying they had been trying to find out where you guys are hiding out and said how they were planning a huge raid in cooperation with the Yardies and Hellcats," Artie reported, "Well hopefully not anymore now that they're killing each other.
The higher ranking members all looked to one another and muttered quietly amongst themselves before Artie spoke again.
"That's not all, apparently they've got some big shipments coming in thanks to some contacts King Charlie has inside the Coast Guard and the Colombian Cartel," the hitman spoke, eliciting a disbelieving 'What the fuck?' from Rex while some of the lesser members present paled at the mention of the Cartel.
"Yeah, one of the Hellcats was blabbing on about some huge weapon shipment and apparently the King must be turning some pretty huge tricks because the guy was talking A.P.C.'s and possibly even a tank or an Annihilator," Artie added.
"And if that happens, we're as sure as fucked," Lexie glumly added.
"I have to agree with her on that," Sala spoke looking towards the floor, "We're already short staffed, nobody wants to roll with the guys who've got the biggest target on their back."
"And because of that damned blockade we can't get much in the way of guns and ammo for ourselves," Jason spat, "We've been having to forage for things around here and there's nobody willing to form some kind of alliance with us either. We're on our own on that front."
"Yeah, the guy also said something about other shipments coming in: drugs, guns, even people. It would provide them with limitless funds and even if they don't wipe you guys out right away, they'd have plenty of time to sit back and collect," Artie said shaking his head, knowing he was going to be stepping on some toes with that statement, but yet not wanting to hide anything from them.
"Well I'm not about to start brown nosing the government or the Cartel," Darius declared rising to his feet, "As long as I have any say in the matter, we're going to keep fighting until the end. Even if the odds are stacked against us I refuse to back down and take it like a prison bitch."
"I'm with you on that," Sala said stepping up alongside his commander and friend, "Ever since we've come into existence we've had the odds stacked against us, but we haven't gone down just yet!"
"Whatever that shipment is, maybe we can find it and get it away from them, use it to our own advantage," a younger Ace spoke up from near the death car, earning a disgusted stare from Darius.
"Blake, you'd better give me a reason I don't fucking kill you for spewing that shit out of your mouth like that!" Darius shouted at the dark-haired man, "I'm not taking this gang into the drug trade! We've been over that plenty of times before, end of story!" he snapped.
"We wouldn't have to deal it, but we could be dealing a crippling blow to their operation if we get to it first," Koji spoke up; "If we can find a way to get it away from them we can destroy it."
"And if we can locate their buyers that'll hurt them pretty bad," Zivah added, "If we're lucky they'll have cash on them and we can use that to buy our own guns, beat them at their own game."
"That's the only thing I can think of wanting to do with that shit," J.T. chimed in with a white knuckle grip on his AR-15, "That SPANK shit killed my older brother and turned my sister into a permanent resident over at Verdant Hills."
"Well we're gonna have to find out when these shipments are coming in so we can get to it before them," Darius said scooping up a map of the city, "We're gonna need to be on top of things at all times. We don't need to just keep an eye here on Lincoln Island; we need to be all over the entire fucking city!"
"But how?" Lexie spoke up, "We're already stretched far too thin as it is. What makes you think we're going to be able to canvas an entire city to make sure none of those bastards are smuggling their weapons into here?"
"And I hate to shoot you down further, but I don't think we're just going to be able to reach outside for help like we did with Artie," Rodrigo said before turning to the hitman, "No offense man, but I'm just trying to be realistic here. We can't reach out to just anybody, we've gotta find people we can trust, someone who isn't a fucking rat!"
"None taken, but I do understand your point," Artie spoke in reply to the mechanic's valid statement, "I think I might know some people who can help out, but I'll have to see what they say. I know a lot of them wouldn't be in the mood for getting themselves caught up in the middle of a massive gang war, but I'm sure they can be persuaded one way or another."
Darius exhaled deeply, "We're going to have to find some way to get this done. We can't just let those punks walk all over us without a fight. There has to be something we can do to turn the tide in our favor. One way or another, we're going to find something, the Redcoats can count on that," the embattled general replied before making his exit, several of his lieutenants following suit.
Artie looked over to Kato, who reclined against a long ago decommissioned slot machine. The often ballsy acting young man stood quietly trying to avoid making any sounds, but the hired gun could sense the tension traveling throughout his body, his shaking hand struggling to hold onto the bottle of scotch he had in hand. The rookie Ace looked over to him and forced a grin, quickly setting the bottle down and using his other hand to cover his shaking one.
"What's up?" he asked walking over to the younger man and taking a seat on a stool next to him.
"Oh nothing, just the usual…" Kato trailed on his voice devoid of his usual boastfulness.
"I know you're scared," Artie replied.
The remark caught the young man completely off guard and he looked over with his dark eyes wide as saucers.
"Me, scared? No fucking way man!" Kato said shooting his hand out and accidentally knocking over the bottle, causing him to jump and draw his sidearm pointing it towards the entrance. When he saw there were no rival gang members forcing their way inside only then did he lower his gun and hastily shove it back into his holster.
"You're a terrible fucking liar," Artie spat narrowing his eyes at him, but quickly loosening up and adopting a calmer, more empathetic tone, "You don't have anything to hide from me, I know you're scared and quite frankly I would be too. Hell, I'm still wondering if I did the right thing in agreeing to help out after all the shit I see going on between you and the Redcoats."
Kato said nothing instead looking off in the distance towards a long faded poster promoting a Venturas lounge act that had come and gone many moons ago.
"I really wonder if I joined up at the right time," the rookie admitted in a hushed tone.
"Heh, you joined a fucking street gang. Do you really think there's any 'right time' to join?" Artie bitterly retorted.
"I didn't just join to look like a tough guy nor solely because of me needing backup," Kato said looking into his eyes, "The main reason I joined was because I truly agreed with what Darius preached about wanting to unite our neighborhood for the sake of protecting and looking out for one another. Yeah, yeah I know joining a street gang probably isn't the way to do that, but I wanted a more proactive solution, something that wouldn't involve having to go through layers and layers of red tape to get shit done around here, something that would involve the direct input of the people."
Artie had to admit he was caught a bit off guard by the young man's conviction.
All this time he thought he had been dealing with a guy who thought he had to act tough in order to make up for his parents giving him a girlish name, but yet there appeared to be much more beneath his tough guy façade, a man who would fight to bring a change for the greater good and was willing to do so through any means necessary.
The hitman could see the fear in the young Ace's eyes, yet beneath it a great fire that yearned for him to overcome his apprehension so that he could bring about the kind of changes he wished so desperately for.
"Well I really don't know what to tell you in regards to the time you joined up, but if you feel as if you joined up for a cause you truly believe in then you should stick with it as long as you can," Artie replied as he looked around the room.
Situated at a table in front of the 'death car' three Aces sat around playing a game of poker while at the same time swapping stories of their sexual conquests, who they wished to conquer and how they all seemed to dread the thought of settling down and having families one day. Granted it all appeared to be alcohol-induced banter on their behalf, but yet at the same time there appeared to be a genuine sense of camaraderie involved, a group of young men who viewed each other as brothers forged in the fires of war, men who would lay down their lives to protect one another.
Elsewhere in the room you had two Aces engaged in an arm wrestling contest while two of their friends cheered them on in the background. Granted the two men were engaged in a small battle of their own, yet with the banter involved an outsider would know it was strictly a friendly rivalry and nothing more and the second Redcoats came barreling through the front doors they would be reaching for their guns to fight their enemies to the death.
Situated at the TV set in the room two more Aces were engaged in a round of gaming on the GBOX 720, Artie recognizing one the background music as from that 'Splendid Crash Siblings' game Randy had recently purchased. They two were locked in the throes of a pretend battle with playful insults hurled back and forth, yet as soon as the game ceased they would be back to being the best of friends and watching each other's' backs with the ferocity of the proud and loyal warriors of the streets that they were.
Society as cruel as it could be would have been quick to judge the Aces, writing them off as nothing more than a group of bellicose hoodlums bent on looking out for nobody other than themselves and wreaking as much havoc as they could upon the populace.
That was far from the truth.
To him, he saw the Aces as a group of men and women who truly cared about one another, the closest kind of 'family feeling' any gang could have. They weren't the kind of people who would gun a man down so they could get a bigger cut for a job, nor would they sacrifice one of their own to appease a rival faction they had pissed off, and they sure as hell wouldn't leave a man behind like he had seen some of their adversaries doing in previous battles.
These guys were the real deal. They would stick together through thick and thin and would die as warriors rather than surrender to the pigs. They would grieve the loss of a brother who had fallen in battle, giving him a proper burial as opposed to leaving the crows to peck away at his dead body lying in a drainage ditch. More so, they would see to it their fallen brother was avenged. To them, one of their own was a flesh and blood human being, not some number on a list and that was something he had to admire.
Artie pulled out his cell phone to check the time, "Well I've gotta get going now. Stay strong man and look out for these guys. They're definitely going to need you," he replied giving the rookie a pat on the shoulder before making his way towards the exit.
"Hey Artie!" he heard Darius call out and turned to find the Ace general walking towards him with a large manila envelope in hand.
"Here, this is for a job well done. You earned every penny of it," he said handing him the envelope.
"Thanks, I really appreciate it," Artie replied shaking the man's hand before making his way out towards his waiting Sentinel.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Author's Note: And so ends yet another installment in the journeys of our beloved antihero Arthur "Artie" Cappelli.
This mission was largely inspired by "Two Bit Hit" from Vice City with Artie having to dress up like a Redcoat and going around their allies' territory wreaking havoc. There's also a nod to the "I Need Your Clothes, Your Boots and Your Motorcycle" mission given out by Gerry McReary in GTA4 with how Gerry kept that Albanian guy's corpse stashed in his refrigerator, the part with the Redcoat's body being stashed in the trunk and Artie's reaction.
Hawt Sacks are my spoof of Hot Pockets, the Homegrown Purchasing Vision is a spoof of the Home Shopping Network and 'Splendid Crash Siblings' is a spoof of 'Super Smash Brothers' and 'One Load to Blow' is a spoof of 'One Life to Live.'
The scene with Artie gunning down the guy in the white rabbit costume is a reference to the "Kill the Rabbit" mission from "Manhunt," in which you had to chase the aforementioned rabbit all throughout the final part of the asylum before finally tracking him down to the watch tower and blowing his brains out so you can get the key. I always thought seeing an overgrown man in a bunny costume in an asylum populated by a bunch of psychopaths wearing smiley masks was creepy enough…hot damn!
The Aces street sergeant J.T. Worth is physically inspired by Wentworth Miller from the show "Prison Break," also the guy who played Chris Redfield in "Resident Evil: Afterlife."
Well I think that's everything covered so until then read and review or else I'm sending that crazy Arabic guy to your house to sing a piss poor rendition of "Poker Face!" Oh yean and before I forget, SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/