[Mokrie Dela]

QUOTE (billy james @ Wednesday, Jan 18 2012, 23:03)

So when's the part 2 coming

not just yet. I'm writing it still, but it's not quite ready yet!

[Lightning Strike]

So when can we expect part two? it's been nearly five months now.

[dannyz]

QUOTE (Lightning Strike @ Monday, Feb 20 2012, 11:54)

So when can we expect part two? it's been nearly five months now.

I know. I read City of Lies again and I still Love it. I hope I am not rushing you but can we get a little peak into the Next Chapter Please

[Mokrie Dela]

five months? Really. sh*t, i better pull my finger out!

I am still writing it - i've scrapped a lot because i really want to surpass the quality of the first one.
I'm toying with the idea of uploading the next chapter. problem is if i do that i run the risk of catching up with my self, and i want to avoid writing it as i upload - as said i've scrapped some things in hope to ensure continuity.

I'll have a couple of proof reading sessions on the chapters i've got and see if i can uplaod one a month or something.

I can only apollogise for the lack of activity - been busy, but I appreciate all your support - which is what makes this live.

Also feel free to spread the word and recomend this, City of Lies, or any other works posted in the Writer's Discussion, after all, the higher the interest, the bigger the return.

Anyway, i had just finished writing a little Chase involving Luis, and who other than the cops. I'll proof read a little now and hope to get something up this week!

[TJtheS2000fan]

I must say, you did a great job with this. You should send it in to R*

[Mokrie Dela]

PROLOGUE

Niko Bellic hurried across the street in a break of traffic. He didn’t want to obviously look around, but he knew he was being followed. It was a warm day, And Niko was wearing a light suit – a white shirt under a creamy-beige jacket with matching slacks. His footwear was a pair of Khaki running shoes. He also wore a pair of tinted glasses.
He rounded a corner, and began walking east. Traffic roared on the skyway meters above his head. To his left a siren sounded as an ambulance tore out of Westdyke Memorial Hospital. Niko ignored it and carried on.

The man watched Niko cross over and carried on walking. He used the next crossing to traverse across Panhandle Road. He had to be careful here; the target knew his face and a pair of sunglasses and a baseball cap wouldn’t hide him enough to be lax. Not that it was in his nature to be lax. He’d been working in the business for years, ever since he’d left Shin Bet. There was a reason he’d survived. He’d even earned himself a reputation. He did not, however, come cheap. But, to his employer, price was not an issue.
Ahead of him was the Serbian, walking along as if oblivious to the threat that lurked behind him. That was just a facade, the man knew. Niko had been trained, not only as a cold-blooded killer, but, more recently, as a true operative.

Niko turned and cut through an alleyway. His car – or rather a stolen one - was parked there. He was confident that once he got in the car he’d be home free.

The man watched as Niko turned into the alleyway. He’s going for his car, he told himself. He wasn’t worried however, as he’d already discovered the location of Niko’s car – it hadn’t been too hard to tail him earlier. The man had his own car, parked just round the corner.
The gamble was, however, whether Niko would turn left or right. If the target headed south, he’d drive right into the man’s hands. If he headed north, the man could swing through the one way system in seconds, even without driving illegally.

Niko walked in to the car park and had a look round. He saw no one, so he approached his car – a black Intruder RX – the new 2011 model of the vehicle. It looked a lot sleeker and sportier then the 2008 model, and still looked very much executive. A businessman’s car. Niko liked the chrome trim around the windows. It reminded him of all the sleek electronic devices that were available for purchase in the shops. Cell phones, laptops and now even touch-screen pads. Niko planned to buy one of the new Fruit pads at the weekend. Niko checked his mirrors and, seeing no tails, started the engine.
The man had silently approved of Nikos mode of transport. The new Intruder RX was a very good car. Sure it couldn’t keep up with a Banshee or even a Sultan RS, but it could out run most sedans.
The man sat in a dark-green, almost-black Rebla, with slightly tinted windows. It wasn’t blatantly a government car, but the subtle tint would go a long way to hiding the driver’s face. Or at least distorting it. This vehicle had been tuned, for better performance, compared to the usual variety. It wouldn’t keep up with the Intruder in a flat-out straight, but it had more power at the low end.

The target Intruder appeared ahead. The man’s ignition as already on and he began to pull out. Timing was crucial here. If done correctly the Rebla would appear to simply be driving off, where it’d let the Intruder pass.
And that’s exactly what did happen. The target pulled out and drove right past the Rebla, The man chuckled to himself. This was going to be easy.
Niko was heading into Liberty, or more specifically, back to ‘H.Q.’ He checked his rear view mirror, making a mental note of what vehicles where there, then headed for the Booth Tunnel.

The man wasn’t sure about the tunnel. It seemed to work more in his favour then the target’s. Perhaps it was just the simplest route – the man knew where the target was heading – that’d make sense. Then again, if the target had spotted his tail, it could be a good way to make a break for it. Not for the first time, the man wished he could read minds.

Niko was trying to remember the name of the vehicle. Nebular? No that wasn’t it. Rebula... something like that. Either way, it had been following him since Alderney City. He’d taken a few random left/right turns, and one loop and, even though the Rebula had disappeared during the latter, it had reappeared by the time Niko had reached the tunnel.

The man felt the tug of complacency. It was not an unfamiliar feeling to him, but the wealth of experience he had developed over the years allowed him to ignore it easily. He was tempted to simply drive direct to the destination, but that was an emergency contingency, in case he lost the target. Besides there’s no telling whether the target would sneakily take a back door in, or stop off and change his apparel.
Leave nothing to chance, the man told himself.

Rebla! That was it. Niko now was sure he was still followed.Damn.
That meant the car was dirty. He had to dump it.
The realisation occurred to Niko as he crossed the city limit line, painted onto the tunnel wall. He checked his rear view mirror. The Rebla was behind him, four cars and one lane between them. Traffic was usually thick in here. Niko planned to use that to his advantage. He knew where he had to go.

The traffic bottlenecked ahead. The man tensed up. He pictured the operation as a chess board. It was his target’s move and as with chess – a game that the man was so-so at – he had an idea what his opponent’s move was going to be. Frustratingly however, there wasn’t much the man could do about it yet.
Niko reached the bottleneck and pushed his foot down. He felt the Intruder surge forward, and directed the vehicle through a gap ahead. Like threading a needle, Niko thought.
The man cursed as the Intruder sped up. He tried to speed up but the traffic was boxing him in. He had to swing wide and force his way through the traffic.

Niko reached to top of the hill and, rather than turning left or right, went straight on, slowing down into a narrow alley.

Bad move, the man thought. It was easy to follow, but now the operation had evolved into a chase. The man knew Niko was better at balls-to-the-wall play. Being hidden was no longer an objective – at least not a high priority one. The target was urging his tail to bring the fight to him.
very well, Bellic, The man thought. Bring it on.
Niko turned north at an intersection in the alley. He came out, crossed the road – barely missing a bus – and accelerated hard into the next alley. A feeling of déjà vu came over Niko, as he remembered chasing a biker the other way down here. Seems like a lifetime ago.
The man had to admit he was at a loss. He still had the target in sight; while the Rebla would fall behind on a straight sprint down the highway, it had the advantage in the myriad of turns of the city. The target had the top end speed, but the man knew he had the acceleration.

The target turned onto Frankfort Avenue. Now he had straight roads for a good couple of miles. The man didn’t like that prospect. The second he straightened out on Frankfort Avenue, he floored it.

Niko made a break for Frankfort high station. He hurriedly parked the car under the track and ran toward the station.

The man stopped his car on the side of the road and leapt out into a sprint, following Niko up the steps.

Niko vaulted over the turnstiles and turned for the steps. He expected to hear a gunshot, or a shout but he heard nothing. He knew better then to turn around.

The man reached the top of the steps, jumped the barriers and made an on-the-fly decision which set of steps to take.

Niko slowed down to a rushed walk, and moved down the platform. He could hear the tracks resonating as a train approached, even though the train was not yet visible. Niko kept moving, keeping the waiting passengers between himself and the steps.

The man reached the top of the steps and looked around. If he was being chased he’d break line of sight. That meant either using the crowds to his advantage or hiding behind a pillar. The man moved through the crowd to the platform edge.

Niko sensed a pair of eyes on him. He turned and saw his tail and stopped. Well, well...

The man stared at Niko. For a moment they just stood there, eyes locked on each other across the track. Neither really wanted to draw and instigate a shootout on a busy train platform. They entered a cold standoff. A stalemate.

Ultimately though, Niko had avoided drawing the short straw. The train approached and broker the line of sight.

The man cursed the wrong choice. It was a fifty-fifty choice. Left or right. Now though, he stood on the wrong side of the tracks, as the train stopped on the other platform.
The man moved.

Niko boarded the train and sat down. Come on, he willed the doors. Close!

The man jumped onto the tracks, causing some gasps from the crowd. He began to move toward the front of the waiting train when a low rumble made his blood freeze.
Another train was coming.
The man saw it, and knew he wasn’t going to reach the front of the train. He sprinted down the tracks, away from the approaching train, toward the rear of the stationary train.

The southbound train stopped as the man leapt up and clambered onto the far platform. He heard the automated voice from inside of the target’s train.
Stand clear of the closing doors.
The man cursed and threw all he had into reaching the doors. He got there as the doors were closing. He turned his body sideways and zipped through the doors just as they closed. He collided with one of the poles just as the train began to move, which made him lose his balance.
“Whoa there!” A middle-aged gentleman said, catching him. “Cutting it fine, son.”
The man nodded his thanks at the old man and scanned the carriage.
Nothing.
He moved through to the next one.

Niko relaxed as the train pulled out of the station. He would get off at the next station and catch a cab back.

The man had reached the last carriage and saw Niko sitting at the end.
“Got you.” He whispered before moving out of sight.

The train pulled into the next station and Niko stepped out. He headed down to the street and walked toward an alleyway. He’d just nip through here and call a cab. He wanted to be away from the station in case his tail drove here.

The man saw Niko disappear down the alley and moved to follow.

Niko saw a cab pass ahead and moved to catch up. He was almost at the far end of the alley when the hand grabbed his arm, spinning him round.
The gun was pointed in his face.

“Rami.” Niko said, catching his breath.
“Niko.”
“I thought I’d lost you. Twice.”
“Afraid not.” Rami said. “You almost did.”
“Where did I go wrong?”
“When you came out of the tunnel you should have turned left or right. Break the line of sight, then make a break for it.”
“I thought I had done that with the alley.”
“Not quite. As I came up the hill I saw your brake lights. You’d broken the line of sight but you went straight on. Turn left, then left again. By the time I would have reached the intersection you would have turned off of it. I would have lost you.”
“Can I have a do-over?”
“Sorry, Niko.” Rami held the gun to Niko’s head. “You know the rules.”
Rami pulled the trigger.



Click Here to read the next chapter - Changing of The Guard.

This post has been edited by Mokrie Dela on Wednesday, Feb 22 2012, 18:15

[Mokrie Dela]

One - Changing of the Guard

Rami didn’t like debriefings. They were a waste of time in his eyes. The job was done, why talk about it? Nothing could be changed. He rarely made mistakes worthy of reflection. The only review he agreed with was his own.
But that was how things were done weren’t they? Not just in the United States, but also out in Israel, or anywhere else. Ultimately, did it matter?

Niko was a worthy adversary. Although Rami had triumphed, he had not wanted to face up against the man at all.
Still, life was a series of events, expected or unexpected. You had to roll with some of them, and dodge the others.
And so it was that they had another job. Rami sat in his car – a silver Habanero with darkened windows – as he cruised through the Liberty City traffic. He remarked on that word, Job. Sure, this was his form of employment, but he didn’t like calling each individual assignment a job. Rami didn’t work behind a counter. He didn’t like calling them missions either. Too military.
Assignments. That works, he decided.
And so he had another assignment. Soon he had pulled his vehicle in through the rolling door and into the secure underground car park. Minutes later he was in the office.
To a new face.

“There’s been an incident.” The man said matter-of-factly. “Your former employer was involved in an automobile accident. His Cavalcade was hit and fell off the elevated section of Union Drive. He was pronounced dead on arrival at Lancet Hospital.”
Rami nodded, as though hearing the weather forecast. He also noted the presence of two other men.
“As of now, I am your superior.” The man continued.
Again, Rami nodded.
“There is, however, one compilation. I do not believe that this was an accident.”
Rami raised an eyebrow. “How so?”
“Well firstly he was looking into some political corruption. Had he involved you two with that?”
Rami shook his head.
“I don’t know whether it got that far. Either way, here’s the flap: The Liberty City mayoral elections are approaching, as you’re probably well aware of. There are two running parties. I believe that your former employer was murdered to ensure a certain party comes in to office.”
“Makes sense.” Rami turned and looked at his partner. “Political corruption?” Rami asked.
His partner nodded. “That seems to be a major theme in this country.”
“Or indeed any country.”
Rami’s partner nodded. “Greed?”
“And power?”
Another nod.
“Alright that’ll do.” Their new boss said. “Let me give you some background. You both remember Julio Ochoa?”
“The mayor.”
“Yes. He had a hugely successful campaign to close all gun stores. Gun crime during his term was the lowest on record since the war.”
“That didn’t stop the sale of guns.” One of the two mystery men said.
Rami shrugged. “There will always be illicit supplies.”
“Exactly.” Their new employer said. “Things were good for Ochoa until the Kapowitz scandal.”
“Yeah.” Rami’s partner nods. “I know about that well.”
“Of course you do.” Rami poked.
“Indeed, gentlemen. Following that, Ochoa did not run for another term. This opened the doors to the current office’s predecessor. Now fast forward to today. As you know the current mayor had continued Ochoa’s gun policies. Only, they’re no longer working.”
Rami shared a look with his partner. “How so?”
“Where the gun shops were closed, other figures stepped in, selling guns illegally in alleyways, and out of car trunks.”
“That’s completely natural though.” Rami said. “The illicit firearms dealers have existed long before gun control policies were implemented.”
“True, but when you can no longer buy something legally, the demand and thus the supply goes up tenfold.”
Rami nodded. “Logical.”
“Which is a problem. To begin with Ochoa’s policies were working, but in the long term they’re simply not. Guns are no longer a rarity in this city.”
“So what’s this got to do with us?”
“My predecessor had run his operations to support Ochoa and his policies. In short to keep the streets supposedly gun free. However, as I said, it didn’t work. They were looking at it the wrong way. Instead of banning firearms, they should have simply regulated them. This is the key issue between both parties running for the mayor’s office.”
“So one wants to keep guns banned, the other wants to legalize them.”
“Yes, Rami.” The new boss said. “By legalizing guns we’ll drive out the organized crime element. No longer will old, often damaged guns be for sale. Every gun will be in a good condition. At the moment you could buy a gun in a dingy alleyway, but when you go to fire it, it may backfire, or fall apart. We’ve had incidents where such has happened, and people have died – other than the intended of course. Instead of the gun being a danger to one person or a method of defense, it’s endangered so many more.
“On top of that, the money made from the controlled sales of firearms can be injected back in to the city, and thus to schools and hospitals, police funding et cetera.”
“So you’re saying take the gun dealers out of the picture, steal their market and use the profits to support the city.”
“In a clench, yes.”
“And where do we fit in?”
“Like I said , I suspect that the current mayor’s office were aware of our existence, and made an attempt to eliminate us. The reason being, that they are in cahoots with the illicit gun smugglers and dealers, getting a tidy buck in the process. That puts us at war with...”
“...your own country.”
“Not quite that extreme.” The man told Rami’s partner. “We’re working on confirmation but if they had killed my predecessor, then this elevates this to an entirely new level.”
“So do we have an assignment?” Rami asked.
“Indeed you do. All four of you. Firstly we have to keep this contained. This does not leave this room. No one else may learn of any of this, is that understood?”
The man got four nods.
“Right. We are now operating black. Blacker than black. Invisible. Now a shipment of weapons has been secured and transported to places of our control. These weapons are to be used by us. They came from the middle east, and we’re using them so there’s no trace; guns bought from suppliers have model numbers on and can be tracked. These simply can’t, because of where they came from. Does that make sense gentlemen?” More nods. “The only problem is the unit that procured the weapons. They have decided that they wanted something else.”
Rami’s partner raised his eyebrow. “Blackmail?”
“Yes, blackmail. This is a sensitive situation because these are American citizens – American soldiers. Kind of like your special friend.” The man glanced at Rami’s partner. Rami knew full well what he was talking about. Rami’s partner nodded. “The blunt truth is that these so-called soldiers are threatening our operations. If they follow through on their threats of ‘exposing’ our operations – which, while not morally wrong, the public will disagree, mainly on the secret war subject – then we’ll be finished.”
The men nodded again.
“So to the meat. Two targets. One is the unit’s commander – likely the one who decided to blackmail us. He is on his way to meet someone in an effort to expose us. This cannot be allowed to happen.
“The second target is a soldier of the unit. A captain actually. I’ve managed to arrange a few other ‘incidents’ on some of the other soldiers but right now, these two targets are yours. There may be more afterward too.” The man picked up two manila folders and slid them across the desk.
“Firstly, to the Captain. He’s blessedly travelling through Liberty City. I want you two – ” The man nodded at the other two men, and Rami looked on “ – to intercept this man before he reaches the Alderney ferry terminal, where he’ll catch a ferry south. Make sure you eliminate him before he disembarks from the ferry. The ferry is your last chance to eliminate him.”
“Won’t be a problem.” One of the men said in a gruff voice, snatching the envelope up.
“Good. Now you two.” The man turned to Rami, who had picked up the file and begun flicking through it. “This guy’s trying to be slippery. He’s on his way to Vice City to meet with his contact. Your flight is already booked, and a vehicle and weapons are ready for you down there. Get to the airport and locate the target. Follow him to whatever hotel he’s staying in. Once there,” The man bent down beside his desk and came back with a small case. “plant this tracking device on his car. You can track it through the modified sat-nav, which is in here as well.” He slid that across the table to Rami. “Find out who he’s meeting with, and eliminate them.
“Gentlemen, I don’t need to tell you the importance of doing this low key. No witnesses if possible. Quietly.” The men nodded. “And careful with the files. Memorize the details then destroy them. Do not let anyone even see the envelope. Keep them hidden and safe until their destruction.” The man sat back and stared out at the four men in front of him, each one skilled. He watched them for a moment as they looked through the files then coughed. “Alright gentlemen. Off you go.”

A few moments later Rami and his partner were outside.
“What do you make of that?” Niko asked.
Rami offered a single-shouldered shrug. “An assignment’s an assignment.”
Niko squirmed. “I’m not sure. It all seems a little thin to me.”
“Makes sense to me. It’s all about money. Whichever way you look at it, guns are being sold on to the streets. At the moment they’re coming in from overseas suppliers, stolen, bought – whatever – and smuggled in through the borders. That’s a lot of work and risk – the smuggling part in itself is a huge operation. We’ve both seen it and how it can go wrong. The level of danger is significant. Then the guns are sold through the local dealers for a high price.
“He’s right, if guns are legalized, the smuggling operations are drastically reduced. The money goes to the ‘right’ people.”
“The right people – you believe that?”
Rami shrugged. “We’re talking guns, Niko. Humans have a natural instinct to kill. Think about it, from the dawn of time, there’s been war. Ochoa was ignorant. You cannot stop the sale of guns. There will always be someone selling them.”
“But there’ll still be people selling them illegally.”
“True, but much less of them and the margin for profit will be smaller. It won’t be worth it; obtaining them, shipping them, smuggling them moving them under risk....” Rami shook his head. “It’s not worth it.”
Niko nodded. “I guess.”
“Niko.” Rami laid a hand on Niko’s shoulder. “You need to segregate. We’ve got some work ahead of us. You’re a good operator, but you have one flaw.”
“What’s that then?” Niko asked with a scowl.
“You’re too moralistic. Too concerned with right and wrong. Now I put that down to your experience in the Baltic, but still. You’re a skilled and dangerous gunman, but your conscience gets in your way. A killer with a conscience is a danger to himself and others around him, Niko. When the chips are down, I need to know that you can pull the trigger without asking whether you should. People will capitalize on it. Imagine a kid comes up to you, aiming a gun at you. Or your cousin. Could you shoot that kid?”
Niko stared with weary eyes.
“I don’t think you could. As a result of that you’d get shot, or your cousin would get shot. Because you can’t do it. I like you Niko, but I’m a...”
“...professional?” Niko asked, holding back what he wanted to say.
“You know I hate that word, but yeah. This assignment is the priority, not friendship. If you’re unable to operate objectively then... I cannot work with you.”
Niko bit his tongue. Rami was right, he knew, but he didn’t like hearing it. In fact he’d rather have a conscience and morals then be like Darko. Or Dimitri.
“Look Niko,” Rami continued, as if reading the Serbian’s mind. “I’m not a monster. I do have morals, I do have a conscience. But in this game, there is no room for such things. I leave that at home. Perhaps it’s my training; all my life I’ve been trained to do this kind of thing. You kind of had it thrust upon you. Listen, we’ve got...” Rami looked at the ticket he’d pulled out of the file. “Our flight’s in the morning. Go home and chill out or whatever. If you can not think so much about things, I’ll see you at the airport in the morning.”
“And if I can’t?”
“Then this isn’t for you. Go drive a cab or something. For what it’s worth, I do hope you’re there in the morning. I think we work well together.”
Niko nodded and the men shook hands. Rami walked to his silver Habanero and Niko to his Comet. He had an hour’s drive ahead of him – longer if there’s traffic – and he used that time to think.

Niko pulled his car onto the driveway, stopping it behind the minivan that sat in front of the garage. He'd spent the drive mentally reviewing the excersize, which Rami had 'won' with a cheeky sense of theatrics. The assignment was also on his mind. He stepped out of the car, shutting and locking it. He could hear the engine ticking as it cooled, or was that the body? He shook his head. Who cares?
He pushed the doorbell.
Instantly his spirits lifted when the door opened. It wasn’t just the sight, but the smell.
“Niko!” Roman sang, instantly embracing his cousin. “Come in cousin.” Niko followed Roman to the kitchen where Roman fetched Niko a bottle of beer – a tradition they’d developed whenever Niko came round. In the mornings it was a coffee, or tea, which Roman had started drinking on his honeymoon. To anyone else, Niko knew, the image would be strange. Having a child had changed his cousin. He still ran his cab company – relatively successfully too. Sure he didn’t have the money for a luxury penthouse, a Super Drop Diamond and a yacht, there was no mansion, or Barbara with big titties – though Mallorie had put on a couple of pounds since the pregnancy, he breasts appeared larger, but Niko caught himself from such observations. She was still attractive, and in good shape – another change that had been impressed unto Roman. He’d started exercising – not with Brucie, thankfully, but he jogged round the block most mornings, and visited the gym often. He was not a skinny man, but he looked healthier. Niko remarked on the irony in that. Now, when he no longer pursued wanton girls, but his appearance would probably allow him to pick up pretty much anyone. Niko smiled at that thought as his cousin handed him a beer.
“Mallorie’s not in.” Roman said and, for a second, Niko worried that Roman had trespassed on his thoughts. “She’s taken Kate to the park.”
Niko smiled at that, something he didn’t do much before the child’s birth. The name stirred up mixed emotions for Niko. Every single time her name was mentioned his thoughts were cast back to Kate McReary. He remembered her and some say that she’ll live on in memories. But Kate Bellic was a beautiful girl. Her face promised to grow with the grace and beauty of her mother’s and the eyes had the same playful nature that Roman once had.
“I still see Kate in her you know.” Niko said. Roman nodded. He knew the story.
“How is the rest of the family?”
“What’s left of it?” Niko shook his head, knowing that he was responsible for the Irish-American family falling apart. “Packie’s back in Ireland.”
“I thought he was in Thames City.”
“He was. He was working with some club owner, but there was a raid – something to do with drugs – and the guy had to split. So Packie went back to Ireland with him.”
“What made him leave Liberty?”
Niko frowned “Haven’t you asked me that before?”
“He left two years ago, Niko.” Roman laughed.
“I think it was his family. He’d had enough of Liberty City.” Niko shrugged. “Soon he’ll be fed up with Ireland and go to Vice City, or Los Santos or something.”
Again Roman nodded. “He’d been through a lot.”
“Hadn’t we all?”
They sat there for a minute before Roman offered Niko a late lunch. Niko laughed.
“What?” Roman scoffed with an open mouthed half-smile.
“Coming here’s like stepping into a different world.”
“Well this isn’t Liberty.” Roman had moved after his wedding to a small town north of Liberty. The houses were nice – colonial style – and the neighborhood was postcard-esque. In the summer the place looked sublime, with trees evenly lining the road, sitting on the flawless grass between the asphalt and the concrete sidewalk. Detached houses sat neatly set back from the road by lawns and driveways, with well kept gardens. Roman referred to the road as American Dream Street. The perfect image of American suburbia. Another irony hit Niko; only when Roman had stopped pursuing his dreams had they finally come true.
It was quiet too. There was no highway nearby, and the main thoroughfare wasn’t hugely busy. Very little traffic came down the street – only residents of the street or surrounding ones, or the odd driver taking a suburban shortcut, or perhaps getting lost.
Niko loved visiting Roman and family. His niece – not technically his niece, Niko knew – always cheered him up. He had managed, with Roman’s family’s help, to put the war behind him. Darko, Dimitri, while still remembered, were nothing more than a memory. Coming out here was a joy and it made him forget his troubles.
And that reminded him why he’d come.
“Do you enjoy what you do?” Niko asked.
“What? You mean my family?”
“No – your job. Running your cab company.” Roman’s cab company had grown. His headquarters was now an office in Algonquin, with the cars being run out of the back, onto a main road. He’d never contend with the yellow companies, but he had, rather smartly, marketed his cabs as “comfort cabs”. In fact, his business’s tagline was “Comfort Cabs – Ride in style.” He’d also been voted for – and just beaten to – a city award. Although Roman had not won the award, his cars wore the “nominated” badge with pride, one day, Niko was sure, to be replaced by the ‘best of liberty’ badge.
“Yes.” Roman said. “It may not be glamorous but it’s nice.” Roman no longer ran dispatch. He simply ran the company, and could afford tons of time off. He’d made it. “Why?”
“I’ve got a new assignment – as Rami calls it.”
Roman nodded. Part of him disliked his cousin’s choice of work. But another part took solace in the fact that Niko was working for the good guys.... well, working against the bad guys at least. While unorthodox, and probably illegal, Niko was doing good work; protecting the city. Roman did, however, want Niko to quit and join him in the good life.
“What’s this assignment about then?”
Niko laid it out to Roman, knowing that he shouldn’t be telling anyone and not caring about that rule.
Roman listened patiently and, once Niko had finished, with a ‘there you have it’, leaned back with a sip of beer.
“Well?” Niko asked.
Roman was quiet for a moment. His face told Niko he was thinking. “Niko. As a father, I want the best for my child. I want her to be safe. I don’t want guns on the streets. You’re right when you said that they’re sold anyway – you can buy a gun from a gun store or if they’re illegal, a dealer. I don’t know whether reopening the gun stores will work, but... “ Roman shrugged. “Kill the organized crime element? I can see that. I would rather there be none though – for the safety of Kate and Mallorie. I’ve been shot, Niko. Alright, I survived, but it wasn’t nice.” Roman shook his head. “But if they mayor’s corrupt, working with the gun smugglers.... I guess it’s the lesser of two evils.”
“So do you think I should go along with the job?”
“I would rather a way to rid the streets of guns completely, but yes, Niko. I think that perhaps you should. If the mayor’s deliberately flooding the street with illegal and potentially dangerous guns... He needs to go.”
Niko nodded. “Thanks cousin.”
Roman cocked his head, and then stood. “How about that lunch?”

Click Here to read the next chapter - Target Zero.

This post has been edited by Mokrie Dela on Monday, Mar 19 2012, 15:55

[dannyz]

Alright a New Chapter. I have a Question is the Prologue the Beginning of the Story or is that part going to happen later? I like it so far, is Roman living just outside of Liberty City or is he in a New City that is just North of Liberty City?

Thank You.

[Mokrie Dela]

QUOTE (dannyz @ Thursday, Feb 23 2012, 06:52)

Alright a New Chapter. I have a Question is the Prologue the Beginning of the Story or is that part going to happen later? I like it so far, is Roman living just outside of Liberty City or is he in a New City that is just North of Liberty City? Thank You.

the Prologue occurs immediately before chapter one. so beggining of the story. It's kind of a chapter before the story's trigger (the event that starts the whole story which is UPLC's death in the auto accident)
It was a training excersize
The opening of chapter one refers to it.

And Roman lives in an unnamed town north of Liberty. Sorta upstate new york.

This post has been edited by Mokrie Dela on Thursday, Feb 23 2012, 12:12

[ubergoon1912]

just call it the carraways as thats north of liberty

[Mokrie Dela]

QUOTE (ubergoon1912 @ Saturday, Feb 25 2012, 02:05)

just call it the carraways as thats north of liberty

I'm just gona leave it unspecified tbh

[Mokrie Dela]

Chapter two – Target Zero

Rami sat in the terminal, a paper in hand. By natural instinct, he’d almost unconsciously scanned the vicinity, looking for threats and escape routes, ambush points and hiding spots. He knew if there was trouble he won’t run to the left, where there’s a lot of guards and cops. Service areas. Yes that’d do.
He wondered about what Niko had said. Why did the Serbian have doubts? Rami wondered who had the right mentality. Was it him, with his objective eye, seeing everything in an operational way? Or Niko, with his morals so prevalent. Sure, Rami’s detached attitude made him one of the best operators around, but did that mean he wasn’t able to identify the bad guys? Did he care?
He briefly thought of his son and his ex wife. Sure he cared about them, but one couldn’t afford to have that on your mind while working could they?
Rami caught himself. As soon as he’d left his home, he’d been ‘on-mission’. That meant his mind had to be on the job.
He set the newspaper on his leg and folded it.
He saw the movement out of the corner of his eye. A figure approached. Rami saw himself leaping up, grabbing his carry-case and using it as a weapon. He’d stun the man and, with an elbow to the solar plexus, duck behind the man where he could kick out his knees, grab his head/neck and –
“Niko.” Rami said as soon as he made him. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Niko sat next to Rami. “Well I am.”
“Evidently.” Rami checked his watch. “Cutting it fine though.”
Niko shrugged.
“You want a coffee?” The Israeli stood and gestured to the terminal’s food court.
Niko nodded “A muffin would be good.”
Rami nodded and walked off toward the food court, careful to hide his smile from Niko.

“I hope you didn’t take offense to my comments yesterday.” Rami said as he sat back down, handing Niko his apparent breakfast. Niko took the muffin, having only had a couple of slices of toasted rye and a coffee. Niko sipped at the coffee, which was terrible. The muffin was alright though, if a little dry.
“No. I understood your point.”
“I think my biggest advantage is my ability to detach myself when we’re working. I think I expect that from everyone else.”
“No one’s perfect.”
“No that’s right. I got myself arrested once.” Niko nodded. He knew that, but not why. “I was twenty three. I’d signed up for the military when I was underage – somehow I got in.” A shrug. “I supposed it happens – World War Two for example. I’d joined Shin Bet and we were pursuing a Palestinian who we believe had something to do with Munich in ’72. I was ten when that happened.” Rami shook his head. “Things went wrong, and I was witnessed eliminating our target. I ended up being charged for it, but later I was released and,” Rami chuckled nasally “deported.”
“You said you were Mossad didn’t you?”
“Yeah, that was after. That didn’t last long. Funny really. They taught me everything I needed.” Niko didn’t know when Rami had left Mossad – or why. He’d never asked.

A moment later their flight was called, and it was time to board. Their conversations on the flight avoided their histories and missions.

Niko was struck by the weather. Flying was not something he did often, and this journey threw him off slightly. He’d woken and gone out in the cool, crisp air, with the sky darkened despite the dawn and threatened rain, and now he walked around the airport, glad he’d chosen a cream linen suit with a white shirt. He’d stepped out of the cold, into a metal container, and then out into almost tropical weather. He felt slightly discombobulated by the transition, despite the several hours spent in the stale air of the plane.
“Hurricane season.” Rami said beside him. Niko turned and raised an eyebrow. “They’re common down here. Up in Liberty we get rain and sometimes storms, but down here, the weather turns angry. Los Santos gets earthquakes, the mid-country gets tornados...” Rami shook his head. “Nature must be pissed with this country.”
Niko chuckled. “How long have we got?”
Rami checked his watch. “Hours yet.” When they had stepped off the plane, Rami had a message waiting on his phone – as had Niko. The target’s flight was on its way.
“Want some lunch?”
Rami cocked a shoulder. “May as well. We’ve got a time. I could go for a good Jambalaya.”
“You think we’ve got time to head into the city for it?”
“We’ve got to pick up our car anyway.” Rami looked at his watch. “Yeah.”


The man walked out of the dingy bar, allowing himself to cast an appreciative glance at the parked choppers. He walked to his car – an old Clover, which wore a patchwork of replaced bodywork and a slightly twisted rear fender, framed with rust. He got in, greeted by the familiar reluctant creak of the door closing. Even the seat creaked. He keyed the ignition, the car spluttering to life after two attempts. It usually took three. He leant over and fumbled with the radio, getting nothing but static.
“Guess you’re not feeling like working today, huh.” The man growled. He sighed and put the car in gear.


Home for him was a static trailer in a trailer park. His closest neighbor – whose trailer was fifteen feet from his own – was, ironically, a man named Billy. He was a decent guy though. A bit of a hillbilly, Billy-Bob was a mechanic with a taste for whiskey and moonshine. He fitted in strangely well. He hadn’t bothered shaving much since he got here, so he’d grown a casual beard. Sometimes he didn’t even recognize himself in the mirror – which was good, he thought; it meant no one else would either.
The man locked his car – the old fashioned way – and went into his trailer. He switched on the light, which wasn’t quite bright enough, tossed his jacket onto a small table, and slumped down on his chair, switching on the TV, which sat on the wooden core of a cable reel.

He spent a few minutes channel surfing before standing up and moving to the refrigerator. After sticking his head inside, he pulled out, sighing, then moving to a cupboard. Inside sat four bottles of Pisswasser.
“Nothing worse than warm beer.” He mumbled to himself, his voice hoarse from years of alcohol abuse – more so recently. While he was up there he had a search for some late dinner, and found nothing other than a box of pop-tarts – a day past their use by date. He examined them for a moment then shrugged, popping them in the toaster. A minute passed and the toaster clunked. He grabbed the pop-tarts and slumped back in the chair.
The TV was crap. He didn’t have satellite – no digital TV for him – and the reception was poor. Three times the picture faded in blizzard of static and, by the time he’d finished his meal, he’d had enough. The signal went completely by the time he got up. He dropped his plate on the floor, tossing the empty bottle next to it. He walked to the trailer’s door and opened it to a wall of rainfall. The sky flashed a bright white then, a second later, the sky rumbled with fury. The man shook his head and lit a cigarette. He didn’t used to smoke but he’d taken it up a couple of years ago. He turned back to his jacket and dug for his wallet. Opening it to no money he sighed. He’d half-entertained hiring a hooker but he couldn’t cover it. Whatever. He turned to the table and pushed a newspaper off, revealing a nudie magazine. A second later he threw it back.
“Nah.”
He returned to the door via the cupboard and with another bottle of beer he sat and watched the rain.


Rami had, in fact, ordered the Jambalaya, and a non-alcoholic cocktail.
“So you’re ok with our mission then? Both today and overall.”
Niko nodded. “Yeah. I spoke to my cousin about it...”
“Is he your moral compass?”
“No, but he helped me look at it objectively.”
“Hell, I could have done that.”
Niko shrugged. But you didn't, he didn't say. Isntead he waved his fork about as he spoke. “Either way there’s going to be guns on the streets. Legal or illegal. It doesn’t matter. If they’re legalized, why would you buy from a back-street dealer?”
“In a rush?” Rami took a sip from his glass. “Short of cash?”
“For the most part though. Mostly it’ll eliminate poor quality guns, prevent jams, and them exploding like what happened to that kid.”
“Three people died from that. They were probably gangbangers anyway, but they may not have been. It could have been anyone else.” It could have been Roman, defending his infant child against a house intruder he managed to not say.
“And it’s more money in the city’s pocket – not the gangsters.”
“Exactly, Niko. Either way, I’m getting paid.” A shrug and a mouthful of Jambalaya. What you make of Vice?” Rami pointed his fork out of the window.
“It’s hot. Maybe I should retire here.”
“There’s as much crime here – drugs mostly. In fact there’s probably more drug crime in Vice then in any crime in Liberty. I came here once with Mossad, to see the battle against the drug runners. Massive operations, those guys were running. Smart people. Made it very hard for the authorities to do anything. Lots of nightlife here too. That means a lot of high-end crimes. A sh*t load of money to be made or lost... Kind of makes me want to go to Venturas.”
“Looking for a well paying mob boss like Petrovic then?”
Rami turned and looked out of the window. “I was thinking more of a tan. I think though, when this is over, I may head out to 'Santos. Change of scenery, I feel like working in the sun.”


The two men stood in the large, exquisitely decorated lobby. Hoards of men and woman flocked to and from the trains, and the door to the city streets flapped almost constantly. It had started to rain outside, so umbrellas were on show, being opened and closed.
The larger man leant in and said something to the other man. Both glanced toward the nearest door, where a cop stood, talking in to his radio. The two men shared another word, then returned to watching the crowds.
Five minutes later the smaller man back-handed his partner’s arm. He nodded at a man walking through a break in the crowd, towing a small case behind him. The larger man brought his phone up and looked at a photo on it. Then he nodded and the two moved to follow.

Their car – a grey Washington – was parked opposite the station, in a parking bay on Columbus Avenue. The larger man glanced at the building to the west, where they’d sat and received their orders. Then he turned his attention to the car and got in, nodding at his partner who headed to a motorbike.
They’d made a good guess, they saw a moment later. Their target had flagged down a cab from the street-side shelter and, after getting in, the cab headed toward them, turning west just before reaching the parking bay.
The Washington and bike followed.

He was heading for the tunnel - an obvious observation. The Washington moved to overtake.

A block from the tunnel they made their move. The Washington cut up the cab, causing it to stop abruptly. The man got out and immediately drew his gun – a shotgun. The smaller man had dismounted his bike and was also approaching, a submachine gun in his hand.
The cab driver looked up, his face pale and frozen. Then, as the men brought their guns up, the driver reacted, throwing his car in reverse.
The shotgun protested the move, firing into the cab’s hood. The engine coughed, but the cab still moved. The cab driver put the car back in gear...

That’s when the smaller guy opened fire. He emptied a clip in two seconds and reloaded quickly. The windshield ate the bullets, spider-webbing as the glass broke. The side window shattered, revealing hurried movement from within.
The shotgun fired again, tearing half of the windshield down. The driver’s door opened and a man – the target – fell out. He stumbled to his feet and the shotgun fired again. The door took most of the buckshot, but the man’s leg flinched, obviously hit.

The target lunged forward and, with a limp, ran into a nearby alley. The smaller gunman moved toward the cab and slid over the hood, his gun coming up as he reached the alleyway.
The larger man followed.

The man had collapsed into a heap, and was trying to crawl away. The smaller hitman entered the alleyway and reloaded his gun. Then he had a change of mind, and pulled out a small revolver. He twirled it round in his hand like a cowboy and approached the crippled man, a sinister grin on his face.

He planned to say something clever, and turned to deliver his farewell.
The smaller hitman didn’t expect the man to position his one good leg bent in front of him. He threw all his strength into his leg, springing up with remarkable explosive power. One hand slapped at the revolver, which clattered to the floor. The other hand wrapped around the hitman’s slender body. The hitman stumbled backward until his back hit a wall. Then the man, dodging the swing from the now gun-less hand, grabbed the attacker’s head and slammed it against the wall. The attacker went limp.

The larger man was near now, and bringing his gun up. A single shot sounded but missed, the target dropping to the floor and grabbing the revolver. He didn’t think twice and fired two shots straight away. Then he noticed the submachine gun poking out of the unconscious man’s body. He did a quick swap.

The large hitman had taken cover behind a dumpster. He waited a second then came out, only to see the muzzle of the submachine gun in his face.
“Drop the gun.” The 'target' said weakly. The hitman obeyed, knowing that if the man was unarmed, or even only had a knife, he could take him.
For a moment there was a standoff, the injured man moving round slowly and awkwardly. A minute later the target stood between the large hitman and the alley’s entrance. He began to backtrack.
A few seconds later the distance between them was enough that the large man felt it safe to go for his gun.

The injured man fired, causing the hitman to hide behind the other side of the dumpster. He poked his head out to fire but the injured man’s gunfire made him think twice. He’d got one shot off but it had missed.
A second later he poked his head out again, to see the man had disappeared. He went to run after him when he heard an engine gun. Half a second later he saw the Washington drive past.
“sh*t.” He growled.


They’d picked up the car – a black and chrome Admiral – and driven back to the airport. On the way Niko had gotten a glimpse of the city. It was certainly different to Liberty.

Niko stayed with the car, waiting outside. Rami went into the airport and, just over fifteen minutes later, returned. He walked toward Niko’s car, not once looking directly at the target, who Niko had noticed as Rami had exited the terminal.
“See him?” Rami asked, closing the door. The israeli's demeanor was calm but his eyes were determined, his mind likely focused.
“Yes.” Niko replied as the man got in a Marbelle. He started the engine.
They followed the Marbelle away from the airport and onto the freeway. A couple of turn-offs later they followed onto the surface roads.
“Easy here Niko.” Rami warned as they approached a red light. A minivan sat between them and the target which did a good job of concealing them. The Marbelle turned left and, with a stroke of luck, the Minivan followed. Only once did they get too close to the Marbelle, with Rami warning Niko who eased up on the accelerator. Rami was, rather smartly Niko thought, holding a map up. If the target looked back he’d see two men in a car looking at a map, probably lost. Neither man was worried they’d be identified.
A motel appeared and the Marbelle turned off. Niko carried on, passing the motel and, once out of sight, pulled a quick U-turn. He then pulled over opposite the motel’s entrance, seeing the Marbelle stop outside the reception office. A man stepped out and disappeared into the office, coming back a minute later with keys in his hand. The Marbelle moved forward and the passengers entered a motel room.
“Six.” Rami said, looking through an magnifying eyeglass.
“Shall we get a couple of rooms?”
Rami shrugged. “May as well. No idea how long they’ll be here for. I’ll go in and get it sorted. Keep an eye on the car.”

The tracking device was smaller than Niko had imagined. He sat on the edge of his bed, examining it. Rami had, for some reason, brought his own bed sheets, and set them on both beds. Niko thought it was a little excessive, but Rami insisted that it was important to not leave a trail. Niko shrugged, unsure whether it was actually necessary.
“Best get that on the car.”
Niko nodded and stood, stepping out into the dark. He walked towards the Marbelle, and took cover behind a blue Merit. Then he crept toward the Marbelle and slid underneath. He affixed the tracking device on the underside of the car, securing it in place. Once done, he snuck toward the road and looped round, returning to his and Rami’s room.
“All done.” Niko said once he’d shut the door. Rami, holding the tracker fumbled with a switch. He held it up.
“Working.”
Niko slumped on the bed. “I need some rest.”
Predictably, the target stayed the entire night. The tracker would beep loudly if the tracker began to move. Rami had set an alarm for half five, aiming to be up and ready for the day before their target.

Rami and Niko took a walk across the street to a cafe, where they had breakfast. The target, and his two bodyguards, evidently had the same idea as they walked in shortly after Niko and Rami had begun to eat their breakfast – waffles and pancakes respectively.
“It’s a shame we don’t have time to visit the beach.” Niko said, his cup of coffee in his hand. He sipped it as Rami spoke with a shrug.
“Distractions. We need our minds focused.”
Niko nodded. “I was just saying.”
Rami cocked his shoulder. “How's your cousin?”
“He’s doing great. I never thought he’d be the family man. Nice house in the suburbs, wife, child, a successful business. Things couldn’t be better.”
“But what about you? All very well everything being perfect for him, but you?”
Niko sighed. “I had a conversation with Roman before. I asked him what was I good at. The answer is this.” Niko waved at the cafe table, with a point at the motel. “At first it was because that was all that was open to me. I was not a builder, or a carpenter. I was none of those things. The only option I had was....” Niko frowned, searching for the words.
“Mercenary work.” Rami offered. Niko nodded. Rami took a sip of his orange juice then spoke again. “Did you have any dreams as a kid?”
Niko laughed. “An Astronaut.” Rami couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not. “There wasn’t many options for me following the war.” Niko sighed. “War...”
“...It changes people.” Rami said, finishing the sentiment.
“You never saw warfare?”
“Not the same as you, but we went on operations, secret missions to eliminate someone or a faction or to recover something. I’ve seen my share of combat, it wasn't open conflict and it was hidden from the public eye...” Rami’s eyes went distant for a moment, as though remembering a past trauma. “But we move on. I suppose in some ways we’re still fighting a war.” Rami flicked his thumb toward the motel, referring to the target, who now sat a few tables behind Niko.
There was a short refrain, broken by Niko. “Any ides who this guy’s meeting?”
“No and it would be harmful to speculate to as such. This is a classic assignment style; follow and observe. When we identify the contact we will have to split up, or commit to follow one. With the tracker we can, theoretically, eliminate the contact then backtrack to the target.”
“Do we not run the risk of losing the commander if we do that?”
Rami shrugged. “No more so then we run the risk of being broadsided by an eighteen-wheeler. It could happen, but it’s unlikely, and we cannot plan for such. Unless the tracker is discovered, or the target switches cars – which he has no reason, nor do i anticipate him to – then we should have no problem tracking him down.”
Niko nodded. “I’m thinking it may be better to split up.”
“Perhaps. So far we have seen zero counter surveillance effort from the target. He’ll be relying on anonymity.”
“So we go for one after the other?”
Rami chewed on that for a moment. “You don’t agree?”
“I’m thinking of – how you put it? – the X factor. What if he goes straight to the airport and boards a flight before we get back to him? Or jumps on a train?”
“Split up?”
“We’re both more than capable, and our targets aren’t aware that they’re targets.”
Rami nodded. “Alright, let’s split up then. Who takes who?”
This time Niko shrugged. “Does that really matter?”
“We’ll have to get another car.”
“Easy.” Niko grinned.
“Until someone reports it and the cops pull you over.”
“We can’t plan for that remember.”
“Actually we can avoid it.”
“Rent?”
“Yeah.”
Niko shook his head. “I’ll just take one.”
“What if there are none around?”
“You’re not going to rest until I concede are you?”
Rami smiled. “It’s a small detail, easily rectified, that could compromise the mission.”
Niko nodded with his own grin then, a moment later: “But when will we have time to get a second car?”
Rami stared for a moment then laughed. “Touché, Niko. We should have thought of this earlier.”
Niko chuckled. “What was that about planning things?”
Rami laughed but Niko could see the annoyance on his face. Rami knew they should have planned for this, and their failure to do aggravated him.
The two men finished their breakfast and left their money, walking out the door without looking at the target. They used their time advantage to clear out their motel room and check out.


“Promotion? sh*t, Dess, to what?”
“Your old job, head of security.” Dessie’s statement spawned a chuckle from his boss. “Think about it L. You’re running this place now, and you’re always saying you haven’t got time.”
Luis Fernando Lopez sighed and stared out at the newly renovated nightclub. “How about a trial run.”
Dessie smiled but it was interrupted by a crash that jolted the building.
“What the hell!?”
“Sounded like it came from the road.”
“I bet some drunk’s driven into the bus stop again.” Luis said, leading Dessie outside.
Both men frowned at the Washingon that sat mangled by the door.
“Damn. Guy musta driven right into the building.” Dessie moved to the car. “Hey there’s someone in there.”
Luis approached and had a look. Dessie spotted the wound first. “sh*t.”
“He’s been shot.” Luis added redundantly.
“I’ll go and call the cavalry.”
“NO!” A raspy call sounded as Dessie turned to the club.
“Wha’s that L?”
“Weren’t me.”
“Please.” The voice was quieter now. Luis leant in. “They’re trying to kill me.”
“What?” Dessie said through a frown.
“Who?” Luis asked.
“I don’t know.. I...” The man passed out. Luis stared.
“Dess, you think his neck and back are ok?”
“He was moving them weren’t he? Why?”
“Help me move him. Get him inside.”
“I don’t think so.”
“What?”
“If they’re trying to kill him, you want him inside?”
“Good point bro.”
“Take him hospital or something, I’ll get this car moved. sh*t, might need to tow the f*cker.”
“Alright bro. Till I get back you’re in charge.”
Despite being exactly what he wanted, Dessie didn’t smile.

Luis was guiding his Tampa down the road, heading to the hospital when he heard a groan from the seat beside him.
“You awake bro?”
“Where you taking me?” The man’s voice was weak and coarse. Luis was troubled by the man’s wounds. If he had to guess, he’d say this guy had eaten a shotgun round.
“Hospital bro. You aint looking so good.”
“No, not hospital." The man seemed terrified. "J.... J...John.... Take me...” The man fell out of consciousness again.
The hospital was ahead and Luis slowed. But he didn’t turn. Something troubled him. The injured man was clearly in trouble and seemed sure that a hospital wouldn’t be safe. Luis couldn’t let this man perish. It surprised him that he gave a sh*t.
“I need to lay off Seventy Two.” Luis said, referring to the TV show he’d gotten hooked on the last few days. CNT had a series-long marathon the previous night, and Luis stayed up till 4 AM watching it. Right now he felt like a tired Judd Parker, caught up in some conspiracy.
Luis headed to the only place he could think of – his mothers.
He turned the corner and saw a man selling drugs. Not much changes up here, he said to himself. Then he had a thought. He grabbed his phone.
“’Sup A?”
“Hey L. How’s things?”
“Bad. Real bad. I need help. Where are you?”
“Home. Why?”
“Do you know a doctor?”
“Not many doctors up this part of town.”
“I’m not talking a nine-to-five hospital doc.”
“Backstreet?”
“Yeah.”
“sh*t, okay. Come pick me up, I’ll take you to him.”
“Get outside ready – I don’t think this guy’s got a lot of time.”
“sh*t, L, What you in to?”
“Just be ready.”

To Luis’s relief, Armando was ready, with Henrique unsurprisingly in tow. Luis followed Armando’s Cavalcade after realizing that they won’t all fit in his Tampa. Soon though, they were there, and the three carried the mysterious man in through a door that held no promises.
“So what’s going on, L?” Henrique asked in the dingy waiting room. It reminded Luis of a cheap car dealership. The paint was cracked and faded, the furniture worn. A radio played quietly, some country and western music. The magazines appeared old – one that Luis picked up was at least five years old...
Luis dropped the magazine on the table – which wobbled in protest – and turned to his friend.
“I dunno, bro. Was with Dessie, and someone crashed into the club. Went outside, found this guy. He seemed really opposed to a hospital. He said...” Luis looked around.
“You can talk here, L.”
“He said that they were trying to kill him.”
“Who?”
“I dunno A, but he wanted to avoid the hospital. What if there are powerful people after him?”
“You been watching too much Seventy Two, Luis.”
Luis chuckled and shrugged. “It’s a good show.”
“So who is he?” Henrique asked.
“I don’t know.”
A minute later the ‘doctor’ appeared.
“I think he’s gonna be okay. Shotgun wound to his torso wasn’t as bad as I thought The spread must have been large, and the shot wide; it's just a graze really. Small bullet wound to the leg and there’s some bruising and a nasty cut on his head which may or may not be serious.”
“So he’ll survive?”
The doctor shrugged. “Probably. I’ve done all I can. I only usually get small gunshot and knife wounds, maybe the odd broken bone. What the hell happened to this guy? You find him in the middle east or something?”
Luis held his hands out and the doc nodded. “Either way he’s down for the time being. It’ll be a few days before he can walk properly.” Then the doc laughed. “At least he’ll be able to tell you when a storm’s on the way.”
“Is he safe here?” Luis asked.
The doc nodded. “This is Lords turf. What you think?”
“He’s cool.” Armando clarified. The doctor coughed, holding his hand out.
Luis nodded with an unsurprised smile. “How much, bro?”
The doc spoke the amount and Luis winced.
“Just pay the man, rich boy.” Armando said.


The target led Rami and Niko to what was apparently the meeting place.
“The beach?” Niko laughed. Then: “When in Rome, I guess.”
Rami stared for a minute. “This is smart.”
“Why?”
“At a cafe you can listen in easy. But on a beach? They’ll be moving around, in open space. They’ll spot a tail like that.” Rami snapped his fingers. “Unless...”
“What?”
“You got internet on your phone?”
“No.”
Rami looked around for a moment. Then he pointed. “Internet Cafe.”
“What’s so important about the internet.”
“Do an Eyefind search and see where the nearest electronics store is.”
“Why?”
“To buy a directional microphone.”
“To listen in... I like it.”
“Only problem.” Rami pointed at the target car as it circled round the car park. “Gotta be quick.”
Niko nodded and jumped out of the car, sprinting across the street to the internet cafe.
Rami parked the car and kept the target in his sights.

Niko did his best to not appear in a rush. He paid the fee and sat at the nearest computer. A minute later he was typing frantically.

Rami had parked the car and walked casually toward the beach. The target had already reached the sand, and had sat on the wall that ran along the beach’s parameter.
Rami began to walk down the path beside the wall and stopped part way down, placing one foot on the wall. He had his phone out and began imitating a phone call. He watched the target with his trained peripheral vision.

Niko had located a store but it wasn’t that close. He left the store and spotted a motorcycle parked just down the road. He smiled and ran to it.
With a squeal of rubber, the bike wobbled and surged forward. A minute later Niko had reached the electronics store – he actually missed it on the first pass and had to back track – and ran inside.

Rami had noted the appearance of another man, wearing a cream-colored linen suit with a pale, open-necked shirt. The man had received a nod from their target and now approached him.
“Come on Niko.” Rami whispered.

Niko returned the bike to where he found it and sprinted across the road. A slow moving car, looking for a parking space, jolted to a stop, the driver leaning out of the window, shouting something at Niko, but the Serb had already reached the sidewalk.
It took a moment but Niko saw Rami. He had his hand on his cell phone, about to call the Israeli operator – to use Rami’s word. Niko forced himself to slow down – only to a rushed walk – and approached Rami.
Rami tore open the packaging and was glad to see Niko had bought batteries. Ten seconds later the microphone was powered up. Niko had thought enough to buy some headphones too, small, ear-bud type ones that would be hard to spot.
Rami took control of the mic, hiding it skillfully with his arm. He listened then nodded to Niko.
“This is our man. They’re talking about exposing the operations.... Liberty City... Some war... 'It’s not safe to talk here'.” Rami was, cleverly, sitting sideways on the wall, his arms folded, the mic hidden under one arm, pointing at the beach. Rami faced away from the target, and Niko sat too, facing Rami. They looked like two men talking. Rami kept watching the target out of the corner of his eye.
“Split up then?”
“I think it’s best.”
“Which one do you want?” Rami asked.
“I’ll leave the new guy to you.”
“Got you. Rendezvous?”
Niko glanced out at the sea, careful to not look at the target. “May as well say the airport?”
Rami nodded and stood up. He headed for his car.
Niko was sure he’d got the easier task. He had the bike from before, and he was armed. As soon as the target was on a relatively straight road, he’d take him.

The target didn’t appear to be worried much about a tail. Rami guessed they assumed that meeting so far away from Liberty would hide them. Not today.
Niko’s target was crossing the bridge that he hoped they’d take. The causeway was straight for about two miles. Long enough to do what was needed.
Niko resisted the temptation to open fire on the car. Thankfully though, things were going his way. Traffic was light, at least on his side of the road. There wasn’t another vehicle within fifty feet of them and traffic on the other side was moving too quick to notice.
Also the target wasn’t used to the heat down here. He had his windows open, most likely relishing the breeze on his face.
Niko gunned the engine on the bike, suddenly conscious of, and comforted by, the helmet he wore - for two reasons.

Rami’s target’s cab had pulled over and the man stepped out. Rami also pulled over and stepped out, aware of the dangers here. If the target hailed another cab – like he would – he’d lose him.
The target was heading in to a shopping centre, and Rami was now feeling tense. He’d stay close and, if the target approached a cab, Rami would have to steal a car to follow, risking a chase.
Luckily though, the target handed Rami himself on a platter. He turned to the restrooms.

Niko pulled alongside the target’s car and turned his head. The target also turned, looking at this biker. Niko saw no concern on the man’s face.
Then he drew his gun.
Instantly the man’s face dropped and he shouted something. The car accelerated but so did Niko, anticipating it. He should have breaked. Niko brought his gun up and fired a single shot, straight into the target’s forehead. The man’s head slumped back and Niko opened the throttle fully.

Rami followed the man in to the toilets, one eye keeping watch for security cameras. He saw none pointing anywhere near the restrooms. There was one other man in there, standing at a urinal. Rami followed the target to his urinal and stood at one behind him. He turned his head and saw he was clear. He turned, pulling out his supressed pistol. He brought it up and took practiced aim at the target.
A gentle squeeze on the trigger was all it took. He was careful to not stand too close to avoid any blood splatter and he used a small, lowe speed munition for this purpose. The target’s head jerked forward, bouncing back as his body began to fall before landing, face first, in the urinal.
The restroom’s other patrol turned round, his hands coming up in surprise.
“Sorry.” Rami shrugged before bringing the gun up and firing into the man’s forehead.
Rami moved to the door and opened it a crack, glancing out. There was no one near so Rami turned back, already donning a pair of gloves, and dragged the bodies into a cubical. He sat one on the seat, and the other on top, then locked the door before sliding under the door, thankful that the floor appeared to have been cleaned recently.

Niko had dumped the bike and taken public transport to the airport. One thing he liked about Liberty was the subway system. It made things much easier. Vice though? It had good weather, and a charm to it, but...
Niko sighed as he walked into the airport, curtousy of a bus. He sat at the agreed cafe – Niko had texted Rami to alert him to this – and ordered a coffee. He wanted to find a bar, but wasn’t sure if they still allow the sale of alcohol at airports. He would go to a bar back home.
Niko stared into the dark coffee. He had no concern for the targets they’ve eliminated. His conscience – as battered as it had been over the years – was not troubled by them. He thought about what Rami had said to him, what Roman’s words seemed to echo. Over-thinking. Sometimes it worked in his favor; covering all the bases, hedging your bets or whatever saying applied. But sometimes it got in the way; doubts and second guesses. So far he was yet to dither while operating – Niko had begun to agree with Rami about the correct terminology for their work.

Rami sat down beside Niko.
“Took your time.” Niko complained lightly.
“I had to return the vehicle. Then catch a few cabs here.”
Niko nodded and downed the last, lukewarm mouthful of his coffee. Rami rapped Niko on the shoulder. “Now for the least fun bit.”
Niko stifled a small grin and a slight chuckle.


Click Here to read the next chapter - The Mysterious Man.




This post has been edited by Mokrie Dela on Friday, Mar 30 2012, 12:33

[AndyGanteks]

Good job with the new part Mokrie. It's a shame not a lot of people read this part anymore, and don't give much feedback to anyone really.
Keep it up, i like reading these!

Btw, i'll feature a bit on the WD in the upcoming issue of MM. Hopefully it helps gain back some attention....a bit.

[Mokrie Dela]

QUOTE (AndyGanteks @ Wednesday, Mar 21 2012, 21:42)

Good job with the new part Mokrie. It's a shame not a lot of people read this part anymore, and don't give much feedback to anyone really. Keep it up, i like reading these! Btw, i'll feature a bit on the WD in the upcoming issue of MM. Hopefully it helps gain back some attention....a bit.

cool. Thanks for checking it out, i'm open for criticism, thouhts and suggestions too btw.

post a not-so-subtle reminded in [Y] When it's done and i'll check it out. If i don't post in there, send me a PM reminding me!

[02fishera]

Finally found time to sit and read the latest chapter through in peace and I'm finding it to be a great read as expected. I tend to find from time to time that when stories jump from scene to scene, it can sometimes ruin the flow of the piece, but thankfully you managed to introduce Luis and the others without ruining the mood set by Niko and Rami's tail quite well.

Keep up the great work, I can't wait to read on.

[Mokrie Dela]

QUOTE (02fishera @ Wednesday, Mar 28 2012, 14:19)

Finally found time to sit and read the latest chapter through in peace and I'm finding it to be a great read as expected. I tend to find from time to time that when stories jump from scene to scene, it can sometimes ruin the flow of the piece, but thankfully you managed to introduce Luis and the others without ruining the mood set by Niko and Rami's tail quite well. Keep up the great work, I can't wait to read on.

thanks fish. I have scrapped about 4 chapters in the process of writing, due to them being crap or out of place. I think fan fics take more skill, in some ways, than writing something from scratch, as you're limited to what you can do - the characters confine you to their own morals etc, so you have to be intricate when putting it all together.

Create your own characters and setting etc and you can take shortcuts to make this scene work, make your character's morals different. With Niko, Johnny and Luis, I don't have that ability. They'll react how they react.

Thanks for the reply fish. Hopefully more poeple will reply and give feedback.

[Mokrie Dela]

Chapter three – The Mysterious Man

Luis helped the man out of the building, glad to be rid of the stale air of the so-called doctor’s office. The place reminded me of a doc’s office in a western movie. The guy seemed competent enough, and had patched the man up well.
“So what the hell happened to you?” Luis asked.
The man was still quite weak. His voice tired and husky. “I’m not sure. These guys just started shooting at me.”
“Do you know why?”
“I...” The man stared blankly for a minute as Luis reached his Tampa. “I don’t know.”
Luis shrugged as he opened his car door. He waved for the man to get in also.
“Do you have a name bro?”
“Yeah, Mike.”
“At least you remember that.”
“I guess. And you are?”
“Luis, bro.” They two shook hands and Luis keyed the ignition. “Where’s home?”
“I... Where are we?”
“Liberty City.”
“Yeah... Home’s not here. I was here... Why?”
“Visiting someone?”
Mike snapped his fingers. “Yes!” Luis managed a smile. “But who?”
“Well you’d know, Mike…”
“Yeah, you’d think so. But...”
“The doc did say you’d have some amnesia, but that’d clear up soon.”
“I don’t like that word. Too serious.”
Luis shrugged. “So no idea who these people are?”
“No. I... You think it’s best if I leave the city Lewis?”
“It’s Luis bro, but it might be an idea.”
“I... Don’t know.”
“There was an address in your wallet. Perhaps there?”
“You looked in my wallet?”
“Trying to make sure you weren’t a terrorist or a cop or anything. Didn’t want to get caught up in anything.” The irony wasn’t lost on him.
Mike reached in to his pocket and pulled out his wallet, along with his passport. “So you already knew what my name is?”
Luis shrugged. “Was just trying to be polite.”
“Or to make sure I was who I said I was?”
“And who are you? What do you do – why are people trying to kill you?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what I do or why they’re trying to kill me. A mugging?”
“No. You told me they’re trying to kill you, and you seemed to really hate the thought of a hospital.”
“That sounds weird. Wouldn’t a hospital be the best place for me?”
“For some reason, you didn’t think so.”
Mike looked at the address. “I suppose you’d best take me here then.” He handed Luis the piece of paper.
“Alright.” Luis said.

Rami hated debriefings. This new guy seemed to want every detail. The Israeli was surprised he wasn’t asked the size of the target’s genitals. At least his predecessor kept them short.
Finally, however, the man sat back in his chair. Content with the past mission, he changed subjects.
“With guns completely outlawed, and any methods of smuggling enforced, how do you think guns are still coming in to the city? Remember the docks are watched. Security at the airport’s tighter then a vestal pudenda.”
“So how do they ship them in?”
“Through backdoors. Backdoors set up by the current mayor.”
Niko blinked. “You’re saying the current mayor’s smuggling guns into the city, to circumnavigate his own blocks?”
“Profit...” Rami wondered out loud.
“Pretty much.” Their new boss said. “The movement of guns is not restricted in any way, shape or form. There is no moderation or quality control on them. Just the unbridled flooding of guns on to the streets via illicit cut-outs.
I’m working with the party who want to avoid this. By legalizing the sale of guns, they will starve the already-established network of gun smugglers and restrict the flow of weapons.”
“Makes sense.” Rami said with a nod.
“So what’s our action?” Niko asked. Their boss nodded.
“We have to attack the criminal elements of this city. However we do not do this directly.”
“How so then?” Rami asked.
“We play them off against each other. That is your job.”
“To start gang wars?” Niko asked with a raised eyebrow.
“You’ve done it before haven’t you Bellic?”
Niko nodded his concession.
“Plus we have the benefit of the violence between these elements highlighting the current mayor’s failure to restrict the movement of guns.”
Niko frowned. Something didn’t add up.
“It’s a little of a dirty ploy, but one that’s necessary. My predecessor was killed because he was working on locating the aforementioned gun smugglers. The mayor is already playing dirty to ensure he remains in office for his own gain.”
Now Niko understood. But, after thinking about it, did it matter? One side or the other – there were no ‘good guys’.
“So first things first, we’ll approach the more accessible gangs. The Spanish Lords and the North Holland Hustlers. Hardly best friends, but it’s time to make things uncomfortable for them. Also the Hustlers are connected to the Pavano family. This will make them weary, likely threatening the connection between them and the Hustlers. Also other ‘families’ may be concerned. That leaves the door open for a move on the mafia families.”
Niko slowly nodded. “So for now we’re attacking the Lords and Hustlers?”
“Indeed.” The new boss went on to outline his ‘plan’. Niko and Rami left the building shortly after, with an idea on how to proceed. They both agreed to take some time to prepare. Niko suspected that Rami was ensuring any acquaintances of his were being warned. For Niko though, he had a couple of house-calls to make himself.

What a sh*thole, Luis thought, pulling his car onto the darkened dirt track. He guided his car to an area that appeared to be a car park, but was likely just unused turf. Both men got out of the car and looked around.
“What number?” Luis asked.
Mike looked at the slip of paper. “Thirteen.”
Luis looked at the number nearest to them. “Four.”
“We passed two on the way in.” Mike offered.
Luis nodded and pointed. “That way then I guess.”
Lyle Greenhorn and Marcus D’Amico sat in their car, watching the pair across the road. Lyle had just gotten off the phone, talking to some old friends. For just a little bit of money they’d agreed to help them out. Marcus wasn’t sure if their boss would be happy with outside help. He mentally shrugged; He could always eliminate them later.
A minute later an old Cavalcade FXT pulled up behind them.
“He made no effort to hide did he?” Marcus said.
Lyle shrugged, opening the door. “You’d think so, with all that business with the Mafia.” Lyle stepped out, shaking his head. “The Fool.”
Lyle walked to the 4X4 and spoke with the men there. Marcus stared at the photographs of both targets. It had been simple actually. After a rather angry talk from their boss, Marcus had gone on the net and, using the target’s surname, found a likely contact that shared the same name. And it paid off.
Marcus stepped out of the car and opened the trunk. He reached in and pulled out an M4. Lyle leant in and grabbed a street-sweeper shotgun.
“Ready?” Lyle growled at his ‘friends’. They nodded and cocked their guns.
Luis wanted to get out of here quickly. They’d just passed a lot with garbage lying inches from the door. In the distance a dog barked, and a train rumbled past. The dog barked again, instigating a shout and a faint smacking sound. The dog whimpered and went quiet.
“Thirteen.” Luis said, pointing at the sign ahead.
“Jeez.” Mike whispered.
“So why were you coming here?”
“I don’t know. I...”
Luis reached into his jacket and pulled out his .44 pistol. He allowed Mike to see it then hid it again.
Mike nodded and relaxed a little. Luis held his hand out, offering Mike to take the lead.
He was used to hearing the odd noise. People would argue all the time here and fights were not uncommon. They did, at least, tend to keep themselves to themselves.
But something had woken him – and that pissed him off. He sat up, was hit by the hangover, then fell back down. Then the bang sounded on his door, pounding on his head like a hammer.
He fumbled around for a weapon – a baseball bat – and rolled out of bed. He stumbled to the door and took a peek through the door. What the-?

The door swung open – outward – almost knocking Mike over. Luis grabbed his pistol in anticipation.
“Michael?!” The man growled, his voice sounding as bad as he looked.
Recognition flashed across Mike’s face. A memory returned to him.
“John.” He said with a small smile. Luis cocked his head, attracting Mike’s attention.
“My brother. Lewis, meet Johnny Klebitz.”
“Got some memory back then?”
“Yeah... So it seems.”
“Memory?” Johnny asked.
“Yeah... Can we come in?”
“sh*t, yeah sorry.”
Luis hung his head briefly. “I’m gonna go lock my car. I’ll be back in a minute.” Luis hoped that didn’t offend this Johnny. Not bad-mouthing where you live or anything, but...

The first thing Luis noticed was the men’s dress sense. The men definitely not live here.
Then he saw the guns. He didn’t think they noticed him, but he ducked behind a trailer and watched as they approached.
He stood there for a minute, trying to figure out what to do. He moved backward slightly, getting his body further out of sight. As he did so his foot scuffed on the gravelly surface. He froze and looked up, an idea in his head. He peeked round at the men, all holding serious guns. Whoever they were they meant business.
Another giveaway that they weren’t locals was the fact that they seemed lost. They followed the route that Luis and Michael had taken – Johnny’s trailer just visible from the road.
Luis waited until his line of sight was blocked by another trailer and picked up a small stone. He hurled it towards the trailer then, when it hit, turned and headed to his car.
Michael was telling Johnny how he’d escaped – he seemed to remember that – and had gotten to the part where he’d crashed into the night club. He couldn’t remember much after that point, or before the ambush.
Johnny was about to say something about amnesia when something hit the side of the trailer.
“What the hell?” Johnny moved to the window and peeked out. “Holy sh*t.”
“What?” Michael blinked.
“There’s a lot of men with a lot of guns heading this way.”
Michael joined Johnny at the window and swore. “They’re the same two that attacked me.”
“What the f*ck are you involved with?” Johnny darted to his bed and dove under it, returning a minute later with an automatic pistol and an old, battered AK-47.
Michael blinked. “You expecting world war three or something?”
“Don’t bullsh*t me Mike. After the sh*t that happened a couple of years ago, you think I’m gonna stay here un armed?” He threw the pistol at his brother. “We can’t stay in here. We’d be like fish in a barrel.” Johnny looked out of the window again – rather out of the only patch clean enough to look out. The men were close now, but their weapons mostly slung over their shoulders. One of them moved their weapon and adjusted it – locking and loading, as it were.
“Now!” Johnny called to his brother, turning to the door. He checked his gun them swung his door open. He surged out of the trailer and brought his gun up, firing immediately.

Greenhorn and D’Amico flinched and darted for cover. Lyle’s men did the same, but slower. They also split.
Johnny moved left, firing at the men and hitting none. Michael followed and moved to the first cover he saw.
Luis heard the gun fire and turned to see the flashes. He caught a glimpse of Johnny through a gap in the trailers but that was it. His line of sight was blocked.
He opened his car door and grabbed his gun then turned back. He paused. Was this really his fight? He’d helped the man find his brother...
Luis shook his head and jumped in his car. “You’re on your own bro.” He said. He gunned his engine.
Johnny popped up from behind his cover and fired, now aiming at the men, as opposed to just spraying.... what was it called, suppressive fire?
One of the men jerked backward, the bullet striking his shoulder. Michael also fired but in a slightly more reluctant way. His bursts came less often then Johnny’s and seemed to serve more to keep the attackers back then actually attack them. I thought you were a soldier, Johnny thought.

Johnny changed targets, missing and hitting the trailer next to them. One of the bullets hit something metallic and the second one spawned an explosion. Greenhorn’s men dove from the explosion that took out one of them. Greenhorn himself, along with D’Amico ran for different cover, shouting orders for the men.

“Move!” Johnny shouted.
“Where to?”
Johnny pointed at the small shed made of corrugated aluminum. Billy-Ray would hate him but... f*ck it, Johnny thought. He was probably done here now anyway.
Michael ran to the shed, as bullets chipped away at the ground by his feet. Johnny rose and fired at the man shooting at his brother.
“F*ck off!” He shouted. The man who was firing at the shed fell, his gun spewing ammunition into the air before ceasing.
Johnny took cover again while the other men fired. He waited a moment then rose, and fired again.

Nothing happened. The gun clicked but no bullets came out.
It had jammed.
Michael had leant out of the shed and now fired toward the attackers. That’s more like it! Johnny said to himself.
“Come on!” He shouted. Johnny sprinted toward the shed, dropping his AK-47. He dove in, landing in a sloppy roll just as more gunfire sounded.
Johnny got up and noticed a few cases of Moonshine in the corner of the shed.
“Get on the bike.” Johnny said, moving to the moonshine. He grabbed a jug of it and hopped on the bike.
“Jesus, it’s been a while.” He closed up the kickstand and the bike almost fell over.
“You’re telling me.” Michael said.
Johnny started the engine and tore off a corner of his shirt. He set the scrap alight and stuffed it in the jug. “Hold on.” He said as he accelerated hard out of the shed. He swung his arm out and threw the bottle of moonshine toward the attackers.

D’Amico saw the jug coming and knew it for what it was. He sprinted to his side and dove behind a trailer. Lyle was far enough away that the heat from the ensuing splash of flame merely knocked him back.
The men recovered and ran over to the shed.
“They’ve gone.” Greenhorn snarled.
“I can see that.” D’Amico snapped back. “What about the ni*ger?”
Greenhorn shrugged. “He aint here.”
“Probably just a driver.” D’Amico dismissed.
“Still maybe we should track him down.”
“How? He’s just a black guy. We didn’t get a good enough look. We can’t just take out every hoodie-wearing black guy hoping he’s one of them.”
“Why not?” Greenhorn enquired darkly.
D’Amico dismissed him with a wave. “Neither of them are here anyway. We’d best vacate the area before the cops turn up.”

Click Here to read the next chapter - Lords and Hustlers.

This post has been edited by Mokrie Dela on Monday, Apr 2 2012, 11:54

[Mati]

Sorry for not checking it out for the last 3 chapters, I completely forgot about this. I've read trough the first chapter now and will read the rest later. I enjoyed it and especially liked the fact how you present the characters. Niko is still the same old Niko in JIC.
I'm very interested where this is heading

[02fishera]

QUOTE (Mokrie Dela @ Wednesday, Mar 28 2012, 14:31)

QUOTE (02fishera @ Wednesday, Mar 28 2012, 14:19) Finally found time to sit and read the latest chapter through in peace and I'm finding it to be a great read as expected. I tend to find from time to time that when stories jump from scene to scene, it can sometimes ruin the flow of the piece, but thankfully you managed to introduce Luis and the others without ruining the mood set by Niko and Rami's tail quite well. Keep up the great work, I can't wait to read on. thanks fish. I have scrapped about 4 chapters in the process of writing, due to them being crap or out of place. I think fan fics take more skill, in some ways, than writing something from scratch, as you're limited to what you can do - the characters confine you to their own morals etc, so you have to be intricate when putting it all together. Create your own characters and setting etc and you can take shortcuts to make this scene work, make your character's morals different. With Niko, Johnny and Luis, I don't have that ability. They'll react how they react. Thanks for the reply fish. Hopefully more poeple will reply and give feedback.

That's understandable, but even with the constraints of the character's personalities, you still manage to successfully impose your writing style well.
Its also nice to see another chapter up, I'd actually meant to head into the GFX section rather than WD so it turned out to be a happy accident. Keep up the good work.

[AndyGanteks]

Good job again Mok(rie) with the new chapter!

Can we call you Mok?