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Gang Wars RP main thread; The IC thread, post your role-playing content here
Topic Started: Nov 19 2012, 03:50 PM (457 Views)
The Keystone Federation
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Gang War RP Main Thread

This is the main thread for the Gang Wars RP, post all of your IC posts here!

Have fun!
-Yours truly, Keystone
Edited by The Keystone Federation, Nov 19 2012, 06:22 PM.
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As the morning sun came rising over the residential buildings outside Jesse's window, her alarm clock going off; blaring in her ear. "Charlie, wake up..", she groaned, "Charlie, up, now, we gotta go..", she groaned again in a more firm voice. "I'm up, I'm up, woman", Charlie replied as he pressed the snooze button on the alarm. "What was I gonna do today?", he said as he looked over at Jesse, "You were going to take me out of this clubhouse and get me something good to eat.." Charlie put his hands over his face, staring at the ceiling and rubbing his eyes, "Oh yeah, alright, give me another hour of sleep..", he said as he rolled over. "No Charlie, we have to go now, you have to be with the guys in an hour..", Jesse said out of frustration. "Ah, yeah, the boys, okay fifteen minutes." Charlie replied. Jesse got up and went to the bathroom, still in her underwear and shirt. She splashed her face with water, before closing the door. Charlie rolled over in bed, looking up at the ceiling, "Charlie, come on get up and get ready." Jesse said from inside the bathroom as the shower turned on. "Okay, okay, I'm gettin' up." Charlie sat up in bed looking down at the floor between his legs. He got up and put on his jeans and vest, then greasing back his slick black hair. He went downstairs, where he found the other guys must've gone home from the party last night. Not Charlie though, this is his house, he lives, sleeps, eats, and breathes this apartment. He walked down the set of stairs and into the main room where trash was everywhere; he slumbered around, picking up magazines, chip bags, beer bottles, and a few joints. He then proceeded to clean up the downstairs while Jesse finished up in her shower.

Jesse came down the stairs with her bandanna, vest and jeans on. "You ready?", she said with a slight smile. "Yeah, let's head out, bike or Mazda?" Jesse made a small gesture with her hands, "Well, hm, lemme think...of course bike, ya idiot, let's go." Jesse always loved to ride, her dad taught her, until he was shot down by a hit man. She had a long history with the Gang, at least with Charlie; they were child hood sweethearts I guess you could say. Charlie got on the bike, Jesse getting on the back, "Where to again?” Jesse rolled her eyes, "The Santos diner, remember?" Charlie nodded after trying to remember, "Ah yeah, That one."

The couple always dreamed in the back of their heads of getting married, although they knew with the gang and all, it was just a dream, they couldn't possibly manage a marriage while in the gang. Jesse and Charlie rode to the Santos Diner, it was an okay diner, kind of small, but it was Jesse's favorite place to go. The two sped towards the diner, Charlie the crazy bastard he is was swerving around cars going into the oncoming lane of traffic. "Hey, come on now, can we just get the diner without dying?", remarked Jesse, "Please, I'm a trained professional, I got this.", answered Charlie.

After they finally reached the diner, they parked the bike, and got off, "One hell of a ride, if you ask me.", said Jesse. "Oh, come on now, you know you liked it." replied Charlie in his regular sarcastic Irish accent. They were both Irish actually, as was most of the gang, the main reason that kept them together; you always stay faithful to your own blood. The two walked into the diner, pushing the doors open Charlie said, "Well, what are you gonna have Jess? I'll order, you get a seat." Jesse than went on to tell him her order.

Charlie walked up to the register and gave the cashier his order. The diner was only filled with maybe 2 other people, which was a busy day. Surprisingly, they hadn't gone out of business yet. Charlie walked over and sat down in the seat in front of Jesse, "So Jess, what happened after I went to bed last night?", Jesse placed her hands over her face, "Nothing, we had a few beers, smoked a few joints, and then everybody left; you didn't miss anything." Charlie leaned back in his chair, "So what happened to the cocaine, no one found it right?" "No, it's in the pantry locked in the safe, no one found it."

That put a load off of Charlie's back; the 60 grams of cocaine which they had recently received from their contact would be their income for the next few weeks. Charlie and Jesse could sell 60 grams of cocaine for around 10k on the streets of Los Santos, although finding people to sell it to who won't give you away is at the least, tricky.

The two got their meals and ate while talking about what they were going to do today. When they finished they walked back outside, making eye contact with a cop as he drove by. "F*cker was definitely staring me down..", Charlie remarked, "Calm down teste, he's a cop it's what he does.", Jesse said as she got on the back of the bike, "Hey, let's go home" The two rode back to the clubhouse where Charlie waited for his 'boys' to arrive and Jesse started looking for more contacts in the city.
Edited by The Keystone Federation, Nov 19 2012, 06:22 PM.
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The San Tierra stadium was buzzing with action as stock cars flew round its 8-track. Money changed hands as bets were placed and shouts to the vendors for peanuts and beer were heard. However, things were quiet in the office upstairs. Christopher Ryder, veteran of the Ryder Family Mafia, poured over a calculator. His assistant, 2IC and long-time girlfriend, Chloe Browning, was with him. "With what we spent buying this place, we don't have much to maintain operations. The stadium will keep paying for itself but we need to get some more income," he said. "We can't get any cash from London, the Met is keeping a strict eye on the accounts. Have you heard of anything? We've got two grand for petty cash."

"Well," said Chloe, "There is an agent of the DEA, Brett Groves, who has a little unpaid debt to the stadium and he's here today. We could always come down on him. He owes about $10,000 and probably isn't aware of the change in ownership. He should be... informed."

"Get Sean to bring him up. The short git always has a way of getting people to follow him," Christopher replied.

Chloe nodded and spoke quietly into a walkie-talkie.


Downstairs Sean Dillon received the message and was making his way to Brett's usual seat. He was Irish and a former member of the IRA, about 5'1" and well renowned for his methods. He approached the tall American. "Sir, the boss would like a word," he said quietly, his soft Irish accent only slightly masking the menace behind the order.

Brett looked down at the Irishman. "Beat it, can't you see I'm watching the race?" he replied, flexing his muscles.

Sean sighed and punched him hard in the abdomen. Nobody noticed as the tall guy doubled over. "I told you, the boss would like a word. Now are you going to come like a good boy or do I have to drag you by the ear?"

Brett straightened up and followed Sean to Christopher's office.


"Welcome to my office," said Christopher politely. "Can I offer you a drink? Maybe tea, coffee, beer..."

"I'll have a beer please," replied Brett. "Who are you anyway?" he asked as Chloe handed him a can of domestic lager.

"I'm the one who you owe $10,000," replied Christopher. "Your debt has changed hands. Now let's talk about the best way to handle this. You work for the DEA and lucky for you, I am very anti-drug. I'm sure that there are things that you'd like to do that the DEA doesn't have the funds for or that someone is looking the other way about, correct?"

Brett nodded silently and took a gulp of the beer. It was obvious to him that the new owners would be a lot more ruthless than the last people.

"So let's talk business... And by that, start talking," ordered Christopher.

Brett nodded again and began to spill his guts.

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Charlie was sitting on the clubhouse couch, relaxing while the rest of the gang showed up. Jesse hollered through the diner window, "Charlie, come here...” Charlie got up from the couch, letting out a sigh, "Yeah, what is it?" Jesse flipped through pages in a small book she had accumulated with random names and numbers, "...this guy", she pointed at the name and number of an Eric Sweeney, "I met him at a race a few weeks ago, he said he wanted to hook up with the gang sometime. Well he just called, he's at San Tierra stadium today watching the race.” she closed the book and leaned forward, lowering her voice, "Maybe instead of going around doing pointless things, you and your 'boys' can go meet up with him?" Charlie leaned in and kissed her, "Sure, let me call the guys."

Charlie walked outside and called his long-time friend and fellow biker Sean O'Conor, "Hey Sean it's me, you soon here?" Sean picked up on the other end, "Yeah man, coming around the block now...” Charlie hung up and looked down the street as his gang came down revving their engines in front of the clubhouse. "Hey guy's, what's up man," he said, giving everybody a club handshake, which was a hug and handshake combined.

"Alright guys so Jess has been looking through possible dealers that we could mug-I mean hook up with" he said chuckling, "Anyway, she found a guy named Eric Sweeney, he's Irish so he should cooperate. He's at the San Tierra stadium today watching the race, so we are gonna go find him; I got his number here, call him, and see who picks up. I’ll have the photo, if you need a look, come get me." Charlie handed out the individual papers with the man's number on.

The group of rough and ill-mannered bikers got into formation and started towards the stadium. In lead was Charlie, talking to Sean O'Conor, a fair mannered, knowledgeable experience member, back in third was Jonah O'Conor, Sean's younger brother who he convinced to join. In fourth were Desmond Callaghan and his little brother Dillon Callaghan, needless to say that the gang had a lot of Irish family ties in it. sixth and seventh spots were empty today, as the other two had gone on a vacation to Ireland to meet with their families.

The gang pulled into the stadium parking lot, getting off their bikes and walking to the stadium together. They went through the front entrance, giving a $300 to the security at the entrance. The O'Conors went to the left and the Callaghan's went to the right; Charlie went up top, pushing a woman out of the way on his way up. They all began calling the number, searching for the man who answered his phone.

Charlie pulled out the picture of the man he had gotten from Jess. He walked up to a vendor, "Have you seen this man?” the vendor looked at the picture, giving a smart remark, "No-no, why would I know him...stupid Americano...” Charlie put the picture back in his vest pocket and pushed the vendor into the nearby isle, popcorn and peanuts going everywhere. "Stupid f*ck.", he said as he walked up a few isles, asking a woman walking down the stairs with her children. "Have you seen this person, ma'am?” the woman looked confused at the roughed up biker, "No, why?" Charlie flashed his biker patch, "Because we're looking for him." The woman knowing of the gang and their brutality quickly scooted her children along down the set of stairs.

"Hey Irish, we found our guy, come to the guys' bathroom." Charlie hurried down the stairs and went to the bathroom, finding the man surrounded by the gang. "Hey guys lay off, I got him from here.." Charlie pushed the bikers aside, "Hey there Eric, I see you haven't got off to such a good start with my friends here, perhaps you could become better acquainted with me, eh?” he said in an Irish accent. "Or perhaps not," Charlie quickly stopped smiling, "now you Mr. Sweeney, are going to tell me exactly where your stash is, and who you're working for, ya got it?", the bloodied Irishman had no other choice than to tell Charlie everything about his drug campaign, this would be a decent success for ESB, but knowing where the stuff is, is a long way from getting the stuff.
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Yusaf Andreyef and Tom Smith were working the door when the ESB arrived. They quietly took the $300 and let them in. "Run that up to the boss," said Yusaf. "And make sure Andrew is keeping an eye on the security cameras." Tom nodded and headed upstairs as Yusaf dealt with another entrant.

Tom knocked on the door of the camera room and stuck his head in. "We've just had some people from the other side of town, biker gang, come in. Keep an eye on them and see what happens," he said to Andrew before moving upstairs.




Brett had just finished giving details of a number of incoming smuggling operations that the DEA and ATF were ignoring, something about a lack of manpower. "We're running a joint operation between the DEA and ATF. People smuggle in a few drugs, cigarettes, booze, weapons... But recently the funding has been cut. The operations are done quietly, only a few people on each side. They should be easy targets."

Christopher nodded and looked up as Tom knocked on the door. "Sir, we've just had a few members from a biker gang across town come in. We've seen them dealing a few times. What should we do?"

"Keep an eye on them," he replied before standing up and turning to Brett. "Now you, come down to the security room and see if you can put a name to the faces."

The agent nodded and the group headed down towards the security room. Tom handed the $300 across to Christopher who pocketed it.
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The young Irishman, probably around 20 years old, sat there on the bathroom floor, spilling his group's entire set-up. "We got a warehouse down by the docks, it-it's uh-"Charlie pulled out his switchblade, "Speak up ya stutterin' f*ck" the Irishman nearly cried at the sight of the switchblade, "number 304A, number 304A, please don't kill me-e-e!" Mr. Sweeney sat on the floor crying his eyes out at this point, "Sean, get the door, we're gonna show Mr. Sweeney here, just why we came to see him, eh?" Charlie laughed before picking the Irishman up to his feet, "now wipe your damn eyes and keep your damn mouth shut while we're taking you out of the track, got it? You make so much as a peep and I'll cut your damn balls off.." he threatened.

The group walked out of the track exit, with the Irishman's hands tied, in the center of the group to conceal him from any curious fellows. They went to a back alley behind an apartment block and sat the Irishman down on the ground, "Listen Mr. Sweeney, we thank you so much for how much help you've provided us, but you wouldn't think we'd let you just walk away now would you?" The Irishman's eyes lit up, in an attempt to save himself he tried screaming, but the gang grabbed him and hushed him up with a cloth rag before he could get it out.

"Woah, woah, now Mr. Sweeney, that was quite rude don't you think?" Sweeney let out a muffled scream under the rag, "That won't help you now Mr. Sweeney, now..stay still.." Charlie ordered the gang to take care of him. Sean broke his neck, and the gang threw him in a street dumpster. The trash would be coming in the morning, so hopefully the decomp wouldn't smell bad by than.

The gang than walked back to their bikes, "Well, nice days work guys, time to go home.." Charlie said as he started up his bike. The gang drove off back to the clubhouse where they hung out for a while. That night, 'Eric Sweeney' was reported missing on the San Tierra news channel.
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Andrew kept an eye on the security cameras as the boss walked in with Brett. "Afternoon Guv'nor," he said and pointed to the screen where the bikers surrounded Eric. It was obvious, despite the bikers surrounding him, that he was tied.

Brett leaned in closer. "That's Eric Sweeny, young Irishman. And that biker gang is the East Side Devils, from Chicago. Both involved in drugs. Eric has connections at the docks. If they've got him, I doubt he'll turn up alive. They'll kill him to make sure he doesn't snitch back to the gang." He turned to look at Christopher.

"Very good. We'll knock $500 from your outstanding debt," replied the Governor. "We'll contact you if, no... when we want more." He gave Brett a pat on the back. "Take him back to the stadium," he ordered Yusaf. The Russian nodded and guided Brett back to the stadium.


Downstairs, Brett made his way to the men's room and locked himself inside, pulling out his mobile phone. He dialled 911. "STPD, This is Agent Brett Grove of the DEA. I've just seen some bikers abduct a known dealer we're trailing. Occured at the San Tierra stadium, less than five minutes ago. If we don't act fast, he'll be dead."


Back in his office, Christopher put the $300 with the other $2000 and dialled a number. "Jacob, it's Chris. I'd like to place an order..."
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Charlie opened the door for his fellow bikers as they walked out, "Hey see ya Irish" they said as they walked out. The bikers got on their bikes, waking up the entire neighborhood as they revved their engines and hauled out of the neighborhood to their own houses. The reason they didn't stay at the clubhouse was to draw attention away from the 'Boss' as the bikers called Charlie. Charlie turned off the lights down stairs and went upstairs where Jesse was in the bathroom showering for bed. He laid in bed and turned the TV on. Flipping through the channels he stopped at the San Tierra news channel..

"...and now a special report from Allen Shepard. Thank you Carl; So you may have heard about increasing crime in San Tierra, well here is a prime example. Just a few hours ago police were informed of a possible murder near the San Tierra Stadium. After investigation they found a body, everything still in his trousers, wallet, keys, nothing had been stolen, it seems that San Tierra has a killer on the loose. The STPD refuses to release any further information, but they claim to have a strong lead on a suspect. Or as they put it, 'suspects'. Tank you Allen-"

Charlie turned the TV off, "Jess..come out here.." Jesse yelled out, "I'm in the shower Charlie!" Charlie hollered back, "I don't give a damn, if you don't want to go back to jail I suggest you get the hell out here!" The shower turned off, she got out almost slipping on the floor and covering herself with a towel in the process. She peaked out through the door, "What the hell are you talking about Charlie?!" Charlie stood up and looked up at the ceiling, using hand gestures he said, "They know, the smart f*cks know.." Jesse looked confused, her hair still wet and soapy dripping on the floor in front of her, "Know what Charlie, what are you ramblin on about?!"

Charlie explained, "Okay look, you know your guy you gave us-" Jesse screamed, "You killed him?! Why would you f*cking kill him Charlie?! Look I love you, but some times you are such a stupid f*cking idiot, he was our contact to the warehouse and now you killed him, losing our contact to the warehouse and possibly throwing us all away!" Charlie punched the wall, "No, listen to me would you, I got the info from him, it's uh..304A, 304A is the warehouse number. As for the cops they shouldn't be able to find out..I mean what's the likability that they found any evidence there? We didn't leave a damned thing." Jesse walked back in the bathroom, slamming the door behind her, "You better know what you're f*cking doing Charlie..else I'm headed back to Chicago." Charlie sat down in bed looking down at the floor and shaking his head, he crawled into bed and fell asleep, he had endured a very long day of stress.

Charlie woke up early, Jesse was still sleeping, he looked over at the alarm clock, 3am. He rubbed his eyes and got up, going to the bathroom. He ran his head under the sink and slicked his hair back, before walking back out and getting dressed. He walked down the stairs, turning on the lights, he grabbed a beer from the fridge and walked out to the garage. He sat the beer down on the stairs from the garage and grabbed a sticky note to leave for Jesse:

Hey Jess, sorry about last night, went to get the stuff from Jubai, he's bringing it to the beach, if I'm not back by 6 call the guys.

He got in the Mazda WRX and rode towards the beach. He arrived and parked his car on the beach, got out and locked it. He walked down and sat at the end of the Pier waiting for the stuff to arrive.

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Jacob turned up at the stadium a little before 10pm and made his way up to Christopher's office. "I've got your shopping," he said cheerfully and handed over the items, along with ammo.

Toolkit x1
5x Beretta Px4 Storm 9mm pistols
5x Ruger .22 pistols

Christopher inspected the items and paid Jacob. This would be good for an initial raid. He began to put together a plan for that night using the information that Brett provided.



Just before 3am, Christopher was laying down battle plans to his men. There were going to be three drops on the city's coast that night. They would just hit one of them.
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Sure enough Jubai showed up a good 30 minutes later. "Hey man how is it going my 'American' friend? Ah-haha!" Jubai got up on the pier, giving Charlie a brotherly hug. "Look do you have the stuff or not Jub?" Charlie said with a blank look on his face. Jub's smile turned into a frown, "Yeah sure, here ya go, 10 pounds man, and I'll give you 5 for free cause your my man bro! Ah-hahaha" Jub said turning his frown back into a laugh.

"Yeah, thanks Jub.." Charlie grabbed the bags and started hauling them to his Mazda. "Hey wait a minute Irish I'm not done yet! I gotcha another special deal that I got from uh, well, a special place in colombia that we like to call..the friendly neighborhood armory! Ah-hahahah! So look here's what I got-I got uh, Ak-47s and I got a few Glocks, man, I got everything man, just tell me what ya want man!" Charlie sat the bags back down, walking back to Jub.

"Now you're speaking my language, give me the Glock 38, 45 Calibur, and the Glock 19, 9mm and I'll take your two silencers too." Jub picked them up, acting out a western style shooting scene. "Haha, cowboy! Uh-no? No, okay, here you are, that would be 1200 for the coke and the guns." Charlie sighed pulling wads of cash out of his bag, "Here ya cheap f*ck now go back to Colombia or Venezuela or where ever the hell you came from."

Charlie put one gun in the bag of coke and one in his back pocket, being careful not to expose the contents of the inside of his bag, just in case any curious bystanders were getting, well, curious. He walked up to his Mazda, put the bag in the back seat and put the gun on his console, he headed back to the clubhouse.
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