Author's Note: Well spank my ass and call me Nancy, it's been a hella long time since I've updated this motherfucker (Almost an entire year to be exact)! Yeah, I've been so caught up in other projects it's not been funny, but I've come so far with this and "Grand Theft Auto V" is on the horizon, so I figured I'd better dust off the cobwebs and get this up and running again. I mentally pat myself on the back for being smart enough to take notes so that I know where is where and what is what.
Rest assured, the Metal Harbinger is alive and he has returned!
Stelm: Dude I totally feel for you man, yeah the Neo-Confederates irk the shit out of me like nobody's business. They go on and on about being the "most loyal patriotic Americans," yet they still insist upon waving a flag which served as a symbol of rebellion against the same country they claim to support. I also think that your governor Nikki Haley is a fucking cunt; then again we have our own piece of shit Tea Bagger-backed governor in my home state as well, so again I feel your pain, I also thought it was bullshit that they were willing to give that adulterous piece of shit Mark Sanford another term in Congress, so yeah I totally feel your pain.
Okay, I believe I have everything out of the way so on with the story!
Chapter 34: Cool Runnings
Artie exhaled deeply as he sat on the park bench looking out towards Lake Bitchagan, watching as a squad of Hydra jet fighters circled the area above Churchill International Airport, moving about so freely and without the restrictions placed upon everybody else. He could only shake his head at the sight, feeling like he was being mocked.
"If only I'd gotten out of this shithole sooner I wouldn't be in this situation right now," he told himself, again lamenting over being stuck in the services of Johnny Sneed.
"Then again, your cousin would probably be dead," a more logical part of his mind added before he took another bite out of his hotdog.
The small park he occupied was in the predominantly Hispanic Cuba Norte district, surprisingly one of the cleanest areas in all of Lincoln Island. He watched as two college-aged students sat back to back in some weird meditative pose, both of them chanting in tongues, while two other men were scouring the area along the coast in search of rock samples and elsewhere another guy played fetch with his Border Collie. He found himself smiling as three attractive young women came jogging past him, all wearing tight spandex shorts that hugged their firm buttocks and showed off their finely toned legs.
"If for some reason I had to remain on this shithole of an island, this would probably be the only place I'd ever want to live," Artie thought to himself, remembering an ad in the Daily Blowhard's classified section regarding an apartment for rent that would have been conveniently close to the trendy Culo Agitador dance club. "Less crime, less filth, more hot pieces of ass."
It was a fairly warm day and the errand boy was sporting a pair of dark blue cargo shorts, along with a white and light blue striped polo shirt and some dressy hiking boots, a pair of aviator shades resting over his dark eyes.
He needed some time to clear his head and felt like sitting near the scenic shoreline could help. It hadn't been able to expel the negative thoughts swimming through his head, but it had helped to calm him, remembering how the first thing he had done was smash the nearest lamp after waking up.
Standing up and stretching his limbs he decided he had relaxed enough and made his way back towards his parked Sentinel.
"Don't know what I'm gonna do today. Maybe I'll give Iceman a call and see if he wants to shoot pool somewhere. Gotta do something with the guy, been a while since I've seen him," Artie thought pulling out his electronic locking device and unlocking the doors from a distance.
Before he could reach the car, he heard the booming bass of an oncoming car and reached for the Glock tucked in his waistband, ready for a fight in case it was a rival gang rolling up.
He froze in place as a customized dark blue Washington pulled into view and came to a halt in front of his car.
"Hey Artie, what's up?" J.T. Worth called out, his tone amiable as he stepped out followed by two additional Aces.
The errand boy swallowed hard, remembering how he barely escaped his last encounter with the Aces. Why they were shooting at him was still far beyond his grasp, but right now they were acting cool as if nothing had happened.
"What the hell is up with this? A while back they were trying to kill me, now they want to know 'what's up?' What the fuck?" he thought while forcing himself back to reality.
"N-N-Not too much…" he stammered, trying to play cool, yet remaining on guard.
"You don't have anything planned right now, do you?" J.T. asked.
"No why?" the errand boy replied as he closely looked over the two other Aces, one of whom he recognized as the same blond-haired man who had been wounded during the skirmish at Montebello's, his arm still wrapped in a bandage.
"Whoever he is, that guy must not recognize me," Artie thought staring at the man closely, who appeared more interested in checking out the same jogging ladies the hitman had been scoping out earlier, obviously not the way he would be acting if he noticed he was dealing with the same guy from a few nights back that had been there when he got shot. The realization made him breathe a little easier.
"Some of those Yardie assholes are dealing around Lincoln Shore. Myself along with Ricky and Jay here were going to deal with them when we saw you here. Figured you might want some cash and some action, so we thought we'd drop in," J.T. smirked reaching into his coat and pulling out a MAC-10 which he offered to him. "What do you say?"
Artie stared at the submachine gun and was a little reluctant to get himself caught up in dealing with those drug-addled psychopaths again, but then he remembered his situation with Johnny.
"Why the hell not? I need to blow off some steam anyway," he replied accepting the gun.
"Glad to have you on the team," J.T. smirked making his way over to the passenger side, "You'd better drive in case any of those bastards are out and about. I wanna be ready to get a shot on them at any time."
"Sure thing," Artie replied climbing into the driver's seat, the station switched to Radio GX and currently playing "Love Injection" by Bang Tango.
"Man, I'm seriously thinking I should start scalping my kills, like I read about in this history book, show the guys how many kills I've scored…show them I'm not the pussy they think I am," Jay spoke up from the backseat.
Artie almost laughed at the comment before turning his attention to J.T., "So have you guys heard anything about that shipment the Yardies were planning?"
"Not lately, can't find anybody who will talk," the Ace street sergeant replied.
"Well we'd better deal with this problem soon. I still remember hearing one of those Hellcats rambling on from a while back about how their leader Pryde was so anxious to take you out after you whacked his brother," Artie spoke as they got closer to Lincoln Shore.
"Pryde's a fucking pussy," J.T. scoffed, "He thinks his dick is too big for his pants, but I doubt he even has anything to jerk. He's all talk, no bite."
"I heard he used to be a chick, but got a sex change," Ricky chimed in from the back.
"And just how the fuck did you know? You fucked him before?" Jay cut in.
"Guys, shut up!" J.T. called out as they turned onto the populated street containing Stryker Lanes, where several Yardies could be seen milling about for potential customers.
"Fuck man, one of them's got an RPG!" Ricky called out, pointing frantically towards a dealer who casually lugged the rocket launcher on his shoulder like he was walking down the streets of Mogadishu.
"Pull the car over," J.T. ordered and readied his own MAC-10.
"Right," Artie nodded and slowed down, turning into a nearby alley and killing the engine.
"Alright boys, we've gotta take down the fucker with the launcher first," J.T. said addressing both Ricky and Jay, "We've gotta be careful though. They outnumber us ten to one here."
"Well what are we sitting around bullshitting for? Let's get this over with," Artie replied with a nod and the two other Aces followed suit.
The four men exited the car and made their way along until they were behind the RPG-wielding Yardie, who appeared to be guarding a dealer.
"Get it while it's hot! Dis be da' finest ice 'ere in all a Rushmore City!" the dreadlocked man called out, "Ya' gon' be partyin' all night long wit dis shit!"
The man succeeded in attracting a few prospective customers while the armed thug turned away to light up a joint.
Noting this lapse in judgment J.T. raised his machine pistol and fired a burst into the back of the man's skull, sending what had once been his face spraying all over a lanky guy in a Hawaiian shirt.
"Ahh! It burns! It burns!" the man screamed running away and knocking over a bicycle courier.
"Get the fuck outta here! This is our turf you druggie freaks!" J.T. shouted while firing away at the drug dealers, sending their would-be customers scattering in all directions.
"Get dem!" another Yardie called out before he was silenced by a burst from Artie's MAC-10.
More Yardies heard their comrade's distress call and charged forth armed with AK-47's and Skorpion SMG 61's.
"Time to collect yourself some scalps," Ricky shouted over to Jay as they both pulled out their own machine pistols and returned fire.
The Yardies fired in unison, forcing Artie to take cover behind an overturned hot dog cart, not the best cover, but better than nothing.
Raising his arm out he fired blindly at his assailants, only to end up hitting an old man who was attempting to flee the scene.
"Fuck," he cursed to himself as he stopped firing briefly, watching as J.T. managed to drop two of the Yardies in a chaotic flurry. There were more of the Caribbean gangsters converging upon the area, two Huntley Sports charging down the street, each carrying four additional members packing AK-47's.
"Ya' ain't got nothin' on us, give it up and we might let cha' keep your heads when we be through wit cha'!" one of the thugs called out before squeezing his trigger and cackling like a maniac.
"Suck our fat cocks!" Jay shouted firing away until his MAC-10 clicked empty and he was struck by a stray round to his upper left leg.
Popping out again Artie fired another salvo of hot lead that sent one of the dealers sagging to the ground, choking on his own blood as he lay dying. With one thug down he dropped another with a blast to the head and a third who was hit in the shoulder, forcing him to drop his Skorpion and leaving him open to be finished off by Ricky.
Jay continued fighting valiantly despite the wound to his leg and had succeeded in killing two more Yardies before another round grazed his side and a third hit him in the stomach.
"Jay!" Ricky called out to his friend, but the young Ace continued to fight as blood poured from his wounds.
J.T. noticed his colleague's predicament and continued firing until he was forced to reload. With no time to spare he holstered the machine pistol and withdrew a Desert Eagle, determined to do whatever he could to save the wounded Ace.
Taking aim he fired a round that took out one of the Yardies' kneecaps and fired again, catching another in the groin and leaving him to wallow and bellow on the pavement. He continued his counter assault, managing to drop a third thug with three rounds to the chest and a fourth with a shot to the temple, obliterating the entire right side of the man's face. Before his clip could empty he succeeded in taking down another with two shots that would shatter his sternum like glass.
Ricky was desperate to save his friend, yet at the same time was panicking as he ran low on ammo. He still fired away wildly, only succeeding in wounding one of the Yardies with a shot to the wrist that forced him to drop his AK-47. The dealers still continued to attack him and he fired until the last of his MAC-10 ammo ran out.
Sadly he would never get the chance to grab his sidearm as one of the Jamaican gangsters fired a burst into his chest, one of the rounds piercing his heart and killing him instantly.
"Ricky!" Jay cried in anguish, "You fucking bastards!" he screamed as he tried to reload his MAC-10, yet the pain was too much for him and he would soon join his friend in the afterlife as more rounds tore through his chest and stomach.
"Motherfuckers," J.T. roared as he fired what was left of his Desert Eagle's current clip before forcing his way over to a fallen Yardie and scooping up the dead man's Skorpion.
Artie meanwhile had finally made his way out from behind the overturned hotdog cart and forced his way over to another dead Yardie, grabbing the man's AK-47 and spare clips, as well as looting another dead member of his Skorpion ammo.
Raising his newly-acquired AK-47, the errand boy cut loose on the Yardies around one of the Huntley Sports, dropping all of them in a bloody hail of gunfire that opened more room for J.T. to jump in and drop three additional dealers.
"That all of these fuckers?" Artie asked as him and J.T. stood with their backs to each other.
A loud chorus of buzzing engines answered his question as six Bati 800 street bikes came racing towards them, dodging their way around the carnage.
Taking cover behind the shot up Huntley Sport, J.T. waited until one of the bikers got close enough and extended the butt of his AK-47, sending the biker flying off and striking the back of his unprotected head hard against the blacktop. With the engine still idling he grabbed the bike and leapt on.
"Hurry, get on!" he shouted.
Artie leapt onto the back of the bike without hesitation and held on tonight as J.T. took off after the five remaining dealers.
"We've gotta stop these guys before they can get back to Little Jamaica. They do that and we're as good as fucked," J.T. shouted.
"Don't worry, I'll deal with them! You just focus on driving!" Artie replied readying his Skorpion.
J.T. gunned the accelerator and sped up until he was on the tail of one of the Yardies bobbing and weaving his way through the traffic of the Kasich district, forcing several motorists to swerve out of their way.
"Alright, hold its steady I've got a clear shot!" the hired gun shouted to the Ace as the latter finally began to slow the crotch rocket into a steady line and they were quickly gaining ground on the first Yardie, who they could tell wanted to turn around and open fire, but was struggling to maintain control of his own bike. With a squeeze of his trigger Artie dropped the dealer with a burst that caught him in the back and sent him falling sideways from his bike, hitting his head against the nearby curb.
"Fuck yeah, good shooting man!" J.T. called out as he veered right and spotted the next Yardie dealer, who had just cut off a Coach. Speeding up the bike, the Ace managed to zip past the city bus before it could clog up both lanes.
Unfortunately for them, the Yardie had managed to grab hold of his Skorpion and was firing back at them, forcing the Ace to weave back and forth at a chaotic pace.
"Fucking watch it will you!" Artie shouted gripping hard onto the bike, nearly falling off more than once.
"Tell that to him!" J.T. retorted as he felt a breeze of bullets whizzing past his head.
Steadying his grip long enough, the Italian managed to squeeze off a burst that riddled the dealer's bike with bullets, only managing to graze the man's leg with one shot. He still sped forth as if nothing had happened.
"If you'd fucking hit the guy where it counts!" J.T. spat.
"Jesus Fucking Christ! Just because I'm an errand boy doesn't automatically mean I'm an ace marksman asshole, no pun intended on the Ace part," Artie replied trying to get another shot in, only for the fleeing dealer to take an abrupt left turn onto another street.
Cutting onto the sidewalk and making the bike bounce (and nearly sending Artie airborne once again), they were soon back on the dealer's tail and Artie fired away until he struck the cycle's back tire and caused it to spin out underneath the Yardie, who hit the ground hard and likely suffered several internal injuries as a result. J.T. would be quick to finish the man off, running over his head as he tumbled along the concrete.
"Two down, you're doing good man!" the Ace shouted as he drove around looking for the next dealer as they sped into the Harbor district.
They eventually found the third dealer coming to a busy intersection, where he used his bike to gracefully speed between the two lanes of cars waiting at a red light. Noticing the Ace was hot on his trail, the Yardie showed no regard for human life, firing away and striking several of the cars between him and his pursuers.
This created a serious problem as many of the frightened motorists abandoned their cars in the middle of the street, making it nearly impossible for J.T. to drive around and for Artie to shoot through.
"Son of a bitch!" J.T. spat as he nearly ran over a woman fleeing from a Presidente, but Artie wasn't as cautious and continued firing away at the dealer, cutting down a heavily-tattooed guy who had leapt out of a Walton.
After a rocky stretch, the Ace had managed to maneuver his way around the abandoned vehicles and sped through the intersection, where they had just come inches away from being turned into street pizza by an oncoming DFT-30 flatbed truck.
"Jesus J.T. will you fucking watch where you're going? You're gonna get us fucking killed if those Yardie bastards don't," Artie hollered.
"Well fucking excuse me for trying to help your sorry guinea ass!" the Ace called out as the third dealer again came into view, turning onto a street where a city landscaping company was in the middle of chopping down some old trees. A wood chipper was positioned near the sidewalk and a maniacal gleam came into the hired gun's dark eyes as he fired away at the dealer's street bike.
One of his bullets eventually popped the bike's rear tire and the fleeing Yardie wobbled out of control until his front tire connected with a large branch that had been dropped by the crew and the man was sent airborne, flying head first right into the wood chipper for a gory spectacle to follow.
"Goddamn man, I didn't know you had that much in you! That was un-fucking-believable!" J.T. laughed as the bloody chunks of meat flew out of the chipper.
"That's how you fucking do it!" Artie snorted as they continued forth through the crowded streets.
The fourth dealer soon came into view and lobbed a Molotov cocktail over his shoulder, but J.T. saw him coming from a mile away and the glass bottle shattered on the empty concrete.
Artie raised his Skorpion and opened fire, only for a Landstalker to pull into their path before the bullets could connect. The rounds shattered the S.U.V.'s windows and the driver spun out of control, knocking over a lamppost and fire hydrant before colliding with the side of an apartment complex.
"Right idea, wrong target," J.T. quipped, but Artie ignored him and reloaded.
Another sharp turn took the duo onto a street where a new office building was under construction and the crew was using a crane to raise a generator to the rooftop. The Yardie saw this and began firing upward, eventually snapping the cable and sending the generator plummeting back towards the earth.
"Shit, hang on tight!" J.T. ordered popping a wheelie as he gunned the accelerator, speeding underneath and out of range, the generator crashing harmlessly into the ground below.
"That was close," Artie grunted as the Yardie fired what was left of his clip, only to miss all of his shots and toss the submachine gun to the ground in frustration.
"Big mistake," the hired gun told himself as he fired a barrage that caught the man at the base of his neck and sent him falling hard to the ground, his unmanned bike skidding along the pavement and crashing into a line of newspaper vendors before coming to a halt against a chain-link fence.
"Alright, one motherfucker to go and we have to make it quick. We're not too far away from Little Jamaica," J.T. spoke up darting his head back and forth for any signs of their final target or his buddies that wouldn't take too kindly to him being followed.
Eventually they found the final dealer being escorted by a Huntley Sport full of Yardies wielding AK-47's.
"Son of a bitch, we're too late!" the Ace grunted ducking his head to avoid the oncoming automatic rounds fired in his direction.
"More for us to kill then," Artie grunted back as he raised the Skorpion and pelted away at the S.U.V., shattering its rear window, but not killing any of the Yardies.
By now J.T. knew he had no other choice but to help out and raised his own Skorpion, trying to hit the vehicle's tires and do whatever he could to slow it down, managing to riddle its back tailgate and bumper and shatter its taillights, but not hitting the tires.
Artie slapped a fresh clip into his machine pistol and eventually scored a lucky shot that sent one of the Yardies tumbling from his opened window as he peeked his upper body out to return fire, crushed by one of the rear tires as he hit the tarmac.
J.T. also managed to score a kill, striking another Yardie through his right eye before taking out the front passenger with a three shot burst that destroyed the man's nose. This left only the driver of a rickety S.U.V. that was threatening to blow at any time.
With his assailants distracted by his colleagues, the final dealer reached into his side pack and pulled out a Molotov cocktail, lighting the cloth sticking out and readying to toss it towards the attackers when Artie managed to score a critical shot through the back of the driver's head.
The deceased driver's foot stomped down on the gas pedal and the S.U.V. went barreling head on towards the final dealer, leaving the man no time to move. The Huntley Sport collided head on with the hapless man and a large explosion followed.
"Fuck yeah!" Artie and J.T. shouted in unison as they watched both vehicles burn.
"So that's how you do it up in Liberty, huh?" the Ace asked.
"Goddamn right we do," Artie replied, stopping when he noticed a bag that had been thrown to the side as the S.U.V. collided with the last dealer's Bati 800. Quickly dismounting, he ran over and scooped the bag up, only to smile from ear to ear when he saw what was inside.
"What is it?" J.T. asked only to stop when he saw the bag's contents.
Inside was a whole shitload of money, ten thousand dollars to be exact.
"We'll worry about this later. We've gotta get outta here," J.T. said as police sirens filtered in from afar.
"Gotcha on that," Artie spoke climbing onto the back of the street bike and then they took off.
XXXXX
After managing to lose the police J.T. had taken Artie back to the park in Cuba Norte where he left his Sentinel parked.
"Well that was fun, don't you agree?" the Ace smirked.
"If you consider killing a bunch of drugged out psychopaths as fun, then I'd say we just took a trip to Dickeyland!" Artie laughed.
(A/N: Dickeyland is supposed to be a spoof of Disneyland and Dickie Duck would be my pedophile parody of Mickey Mouse.)
"Hell yeah, well here's your cut for a job well done," the street sergeant said offering Artie five thousand of the ten thousand dollars recovered, "You've earned it. We Aces actually take the effort to look out for our friends, unlike those backstabbing prick Redcoats."
"I appreciate it man. I'll keep in touch with you guys," Artie nodded and the Ace went about his way.
Exhaling deeply after a job well done, the hired gun was about to enter his car when his phone started ringing. Looking down to the caller ID screen he saw it was Donnie.
"What's up?" he asked answering the phone.
"Artie, are you nearby? I need you to get your ass over to Hell's Belles right away," the elder Cappelli cousin spoke, sounding like he was struggling to control his temper.
"Whoa hold on, what's wrong Cuz?" Artie asked.
"I'll tell you more about it when you get your ass over here. Please tell me you're nearby," Donnie pleaded.
"I'm over in Cuba Norte right now, but I can be over there soon," the errand boy replied, knowing it would be a hike over to the aforementioned gentlemen's club.
"Cuba Norte, what the fuck are you doing over there?" Donnie asked, sounding severely irritated.
"If you must know, I just got back from blasting a bunch of those Yardie freaks," Artie spoke, only to be cut off before he could go any further.
"You did what?!" he screamed.
"You heard me, I just killed a bunch of those punk ass Yardies," Artie retorted, "What the hell do you have to be so on the edge about that for? I thought you were always so gung ho about blasting anything standing in your way, well those fuckers were standing in mine."
There was no immediate reply from the other end, only labored breaths.
"Well? What do you have to be complaining about?" Artie asked again.
"Nothing Cuz, it's just that those Yardies are some very dangerous motherfuckers. You know how vicious they can be, right? If you mess around with them they'll skin you alive before they can kill you. Trust me Cuz, if I were you I'd stay away from them at all costs," Donnie replied.
"What?" Donnie asked in disbelief, "You mean to tell me that you're actually being cautious for once in your life? Mr. I'll-Fuck-Anything-That-Moves-Yet-I-Can't-Shoot-a- Drugged-Out-Freak!"
"Please, just get your ass over to Hell's Belles right away," Donnie repeated before hanging up the phone.
"Jeez, what the hell was that all about?" Artie asked himself climbing into the car and starting up before proceeding to the strip club.
Author's Note: Yeah, I know I've been gone a LONG time, but I have made my glorious return (will be glorious depending upon how many reviews I can get) to GTA fiction.
I originally planned for this to be where Artie and J.T. would both be on motorbikes, but then I got into the "What if this were an actual video game?" mindset and thought it would be just as cool to have a "turret-type" mission like you've seen in most of the GTA games.
Well tune in next time (which will hopefully come sooner) to see what kind of mischief our beloved antihero will find himself in and please read and review!
This is Metal Harbinger saying SPREAD THE SICKNESS, ONE MIND AT A TIME! \m/