“Back To The Ghetto”

A call from my bro Sweet. A call no son wants to get. Bad news. Moms is dead. Murderred. After getting away from all the gang banging of Los Santos where I grew up, I find myself arriving home from 5 years in Liberty city. One of my homeys is waiting at the airport and we make the sombre trip back to the hood in his sled. Oh shit, what’s that? Red and blue lights in the rear view. Two cops. One white, one black. Next thing I know, I’m in the back of their car and they’re going on about me killing a cop or something. All I know is that I didn’t do shit. This is a freakin’ setup.
To make matters worse, when they’re done trying to put the scare into me, they drop me off in the worst of places: a rival gang’s hood. I gotta act fast. Looking around, I spot a kid on a bike and before he knows what hits him, he gets the Canadian Crowbar and is lying on the ground while I’m off on his bike. People are starting to notice me, a few comments are made, racial slurs, etc but nothing I can’t handle. I haven’t ridden a BMX in years. I realize my skillz from my youth are still intact. I can endo, wheelie, even ride the pool bowls at the skate park I spy across the street.

Its getting kinda sketchy so I make tracks towards my hood and thankfully come across a couple old friends. We’re chillin on our rides on a street corner when buddy yells, “Get down! Driveby!!!”. Bullets start whistling past us. None of us get hit. We’re outta here and the chase is on. My two buddies are long gone ahead of me. I might know how to ride a bike but its been a while and I’m outta shape. These bangers shooting at us keep pulling up alongside me. Its amazing how bad of shots these guys are!! I take a couple of grazing shots but all my major organs are intact. To add to my troubles, I must have taken a spill off my ride at least three times. Walls are particulary unforgiving. Good thing I just missed that speeding train. Mental note: next time while crossing the tracks heed the warning lights.

We make it home safe. My bro Sweet is not super happy to see me. He’s got his ideas of what happened to Moms but is unwilling to share them with me at this time. Frustrating but its obvious he’s sore at me for taking off to Liberty City for so long. Thinks I ran from my problems and left him hanging. But he’s my bro. I’m home now and I’m going to prove to him how important he and my family are to me.

I get set up in my old room. Cool. The regular boys are chilling outside, bragging about bitches, swapping the malt liquor. Ahhh, good to be home. There’s nothing left in my closet. I fool around with some combinations of what to wear and ultimately decide that if I’m going to be a badassed chocolate covered almond gangsta, I need to be proud of who I am. So, I do the first thing that comes naturally, strip down to my tighty whiteys, pull ‘em up to nearly my chest and head outside and cruise.

I’m surprised at how many people accept my appearance. No shirt, no shoes, only my underwear. Man, these shorts are big! Some passerby shouts a comment about underwear being overrated. He’s right. If I could go nude, I would have. I get my hair cut first. The barber does a wonderful job of “volumizing” my short, short hair into a wonderful ’70’s style NBA afro. I grab 3 large pizza’s which I have no problem eating and head back to the hood.

My bro’s starting to warm up to me a bit more. We do a few things, grab some guns, hustle some people, drink some malt liquor, you know, typical small scale gangsta stuff. I’ve noticed that I can take a beating though, that’s good. And when I get shot up, I always wake up in the hospital, no matter if I’m riddled with bullets or run over by a car. Cool. Sweet sets me up at the gym. So, for the next few days, I cruise around and work out. The boys want me to gain some weight. So, I pump some iron and can already see the results. I gots me some pipes now. No Balco for me homey, I’m straight up natch.

I’m feeling particulariy adventurous and begin to explore outside of my regular hood. I’ve realized that for the first few days, I’ve hardly been a few blocks from my house. I have a handy map in my pocket that highlights where I’ve been and I am amazed to see that I’ve hardly touched the geography of the local area.

I first head north towards the glitz and glam of Las Venturas. WTF? The bridge is closed off due to some “road construction” or something. That’s dumb. So, I turn around and head back towards home. I keep cruising and see a sign for the Los Santos airport. Hmmm! Airports are fun. Let me see what sort of trouble I can find there. After a few minutes of driving (it looked closer on the map!) I’m there. Its an ok airport, nothing much to see. I wanna get onto the tarmac. We all know that’s where the real fun stuff is. No way in though. So, I pull my car up to a wall, get out, hop on top of it and scale the wall. I feel like the Great American Hero finding out all these new abilities I have. I jump down and start walking across the tarmac. Holy crap! I nearly get run over by a runaway taxi being chased by an unmarked police car. How’d he get in there? I keep going, this time looking both ways. Ooh, what’s this? A Dodo! Last time I tried flying one of these it didn’t stay off the ground for more than 5 seconds. I hop in, start it up and it works! Flys nice too. I tour around the airport and see some Learjets. I land, get out and try the door of the Learjet. Its open. KILLER. Let’s rock. Forget the turboprop shiznit, I want me some jets. After taxiing to the runway and taking off like a seasoned pilot, I gently bank left and head west to San Fierro. The cruising is beautiful. I can see soooo far save for the occasional cloud. I am coming up on another bridge. The bridge to San Fierro. I can see that bridge is closed like the first one but no matter, there’s nothing to stop me up here! I continue on, no loading screen (nice!) and…. wait a sec! What the hell? Suddenly I’m a wanted man! And not just one star wanted. I’m talking instant four stars!! What the hell!?? What did I do? Apparently I’m not welcome outside of Los Santos… at least not yet.

I figure, “who can get me up here in the wild blue yonder?”. Then I see a army helo fly past. He’s got nothing on my jet and was soon dust. I keep cruising. What’s that new sound I hear? I check my six just in time to see a Harrier launch a missle at me. Its a dead hit. Engine one flames out but I’m ok. I’m over San Fierro now. Damn, another missle hit. I’m in real trouble now as the second engine is on fire. Can’t find a place to set down. Another missle hits me… I’m in deep shit here. Instruments are dead. Plane’s smoking something fierce. I know if I don’t ditch, I’m a dead man. The planes in a shallow dive and I bail out. Uh oh, I’m still really high. Falling with no parachute. Oh crap. Thankfully, I hit water, swim to shore and notice two police vans do headers off a cliff as I scramble up to the road. Some silly person is rubbernecking so I jack his car and head to down. I’ve got helicopters, cop cars and SUV’s hunting me down. I won’t last long on the ground. I’m quickly coming to the understanding that my end is near. I spot a burger joint. May as well wolf down a couple of Beef Stack combos and have an impromptu last meal. Awfully nice of the police to respect my wishes and wait outside….

“Cruisin’ Downtown In My Six-Fo”
Nothing like hearing the blissful notes of Eazy-E after jacking my first car upon my release from Los Santos Hospital. Patched up after having my lunch rudely interrupted by a hoard of police and military personnel, Fiddy’s got the mono radio cranked and I’m ready to start some hardcore bangin’ again.

I’m thinkin’ its ’bout time get back to the business at hand here. I’ve made a few friends along with my regular crew (Sweet, Big Smoke and Ryder) including one of the craziest mofo’s I’ve met. A cat named OG Loc. This guy is flat out whack. He thinks he’s a rapper but Loc’s got no skillz on the mic and he rhymes like shit. I’ll occasionally meet him out back of his gig at the burger joint for a blunt. Loc’s old school Grove Street so even though he’s whacked, I still gotta watch out for one of my homies. We’ve rolled a bit together. Somehow, this “original gangsta” gets me wrapped up in stealing someone’s lyrics! So, there I am, up in the hills of Los Santos sneaking into some grand rap masta’s mansion to grab these lyrics. Its here where I get to show off my stealth abilities. Using shadows, dark rooms and a sharp knife I get the lyrics. Man, I must have slit the throats of five or six of that punk’s bodyguards. I’m developing a real taste for ‘da bloodshed. I especially like this stealth stuff. The hunter and the hunted… The feel of the warm blood rushing over my hands as I slide my blade across the supple skin of my prey’s throat is envigorating. And with the lyrics in hand, I’m gone as quiestly as I came. As I leave I notice a for sale sign. When I make it big, this place is mine.

I’ve decided to change my image a little bit. I’ve grown my hair out and dyed the ‘fro blonde. Got me some new threads as well. Looking a bit mo’ gangsta now and proudly sporting Grove Street colours. 4 life now, ya hear!? Holla! Stopped going to the gym for a while. I find that my everyday activities are keeping me super lean, even when I eat 11 pizzas in one sitting then doing the technicolor yawn at the front counter of the pizza joint. Word.

Back in the hood, I’ve noticed a few new faces around. Unwelcome faces. So, one day, I go up to this cocky looking guy to see what his gig is. Turns out he’s dealin’. You don’t deal on Grove Street turf unless you are Grove Street. 4 LIFE! He offers me some and I’m given a chance to reply. Damn, back in Liberty City if someone spoke to me, I could only communicate with my fists. This is nice. I’m offered a choice between responding positively or negatively. I tell this mofo off. Dude pulls a Gat but before he can pull the trigger, I’ve squeezed off one round, right in the forehead. Down goes thedealer!! Two things happen next. One, I realize how much money drug dealers carry (so I pick it all up, a few K’s worth). And two, I realize that, with practise, my proficiency with a gun increases. Hehehe.

I am beginning to notice a real de-sensitivity to killing as the days progress. It takes less and less to “flip my switch” so to speak. Walking down the street and some guy bumps me. BLAM. Make a comment I don’t agree with? BLAM. I see a guy that looks like Wil Smith? BLAM. Fresh Prince this… nerd! Cops come and go, nothing I can’t handle. That said, all this senseless killing still leaves a void in me. This void wasn’t something I could put a finger on… until I met a girl.

I can’t remember her name now (too many ho’s, too little time) but she was special. Turns out she’s a Grove Street girl herself and just lives down on the corner. Anyways, who cares about that, this gangsta just wants to do some ballin’. I pick her up for our first date hoping to score quickly. We head out, not really sure what we’re gonna do. Fast food, pizza, fancier restaurants, bars, you name it, we can go and do it. So, thinking with little Fiddy, we head to the bar. She loves it. We pound a couple of 40’s of LS’s finest malt liquor. Good times. She says, “take me home”, I’m thinking, “this playa’s in there.” We get to her place, out she gets without even a kiss!!! WTF??? “Ok, ok, playa, keep it cool,” I’m thinking. Next time it’ll happen. We set up a date to go out again. A couple of days later, I pick her up. On my bike this time. She hops on. I think about going back to the bar, it seemed to work before, but decide to cruise around a bit. The next hour of my life not only surprised the hell out of me, it also impressed the hell out of me.

So, we’re cruisin’ and suddnely my ‘ho brandishes a piece and tells me she wants to do some drive by’s!! So, off we go to Balla territory. There we are, doubling on my crotch rocket bike, she shooting left, me cappin’ bustas right. Was this meant to be or what? After a few laps of the neighbourhood and several capped Balla’s, she’s ready to head home again. Pizza? No thanks, she stayed on the bike. So, home we go. About halfway’s home, I get notified that our hood is under attack by some Balla’s. Gotta represent so we take a little detour before dropping her off. We roll up on the action, I jump off and start cappin’ these punks and protecting my turf. In the middle of the action, I look over and notice my ‘ho ain’t just waiting on the bike, she hasn’t run off but rather she’s in the middle of the melee shootin’ and bangin!! This could be love!!! We handle this attack quite easily. I’ve got my fingers crossed, this could be the night little Fiddy comes out to play! we get back to her place and once again, FUCK, Fiddy gets denied. In she walks. I wait in the driveway for a short bit, frustrated. I honk my horn to get her attention. No reply. (I’d knock if I could). Fuck it. I leave. On my way home, I have a brilliant idea. No way this homey’s gonna get dissed like that and sit there and take it! Drop the bike. Jack a car. A car with a big back seat. I roll up to a hooker, she asks me if I’m looking for a good time and hops in. I park the car right in my ex-ho’s driveway and me and this hooker go to town. The car’s a’rockin, she’s screamin’ and I’m loving it. Right in my now-ex-girlfriend’s driveway. Take that bitch. Next morning, the ex still isn’t around (she might not be up yet, its still early and I don’t care) so I get me another hooker and park the car out back of her house this time, right under her window. This time we’re extra loud. That’ll teach her… ’til next time homeys.

“Out of My Element…”

Aside from previously stated issues with my now EX-girlfriend, things have started to get a little weird around my hood and in Los Santos. For reasons that I will not explain to you XCL honkeys (and partly cause now this game’s coming to ‘da Box), I figured it best to split out of town for a while. My buddy Caesar hooks me up with his cousin up in the countryside north of Los Santos.

BUT, before I leave, I should probably mention a little something. Playin’ the ponies at the local betting joint. I have a few thousand to my name. I don’t handicap but rather I bet by name. You know a horse is gonna be a winner when they’re named things like “Bearded Clam” and other colorful descriptions. I bet on average odds horse2 (4 to 1, 5 to 1, that sort of thing) but no luck. Before I lose it all, I figure one last $1000 on the 12-1 long shot. I figure I can always roll some dealers and random crack whores or burgle some homes for some $$ anyways. Sure enough, my pony comes in and I make a cool $12000. Thank you very much!

I’m surprised when I find out that Caesar’s cousin is a girl. I was expecting a guy. But after a while, she goes freaky and I end up seeing her a few days later joined at the hip with a very familiar face from years past… Where do I know that face from?? Liberty? I wonder… Damn guy must be mute or something…

Anyways, to be honest, the countryside isn’t really all that exciting. I’m more of a city guy myself. I buy myself a trailer to bunk down when need be. There’s quite the assortment of country bumpkins out there. Plenty of trailers, tractors, rednecks and plenty of gun shops. But I yearn for the city. In my spare time, I head back into Los Santos but have to tread lightly. While back home, I get my hair cut into a really sharp Elvis coif and buy a beachfront condo. This’ll be fly with the ladies. I’ve heard rumours of clams on the beach but can only confirm the bearded variety.

I’ve finally established some contacts in the city of San Fierro, so it looks like its bye bye time for the countryside for me. It couldn’t come any sooner. However, I am still impressed by the size of the “state” that I live in. Some of the drives between towns are quite long. You can easily get lost if you’re not paying attention to turn offs and such. On my way to San Fierro, I grab a dirt bike and find some dirt trails leading up a mountain. Up and up I’m going finally coming to what appears to be the summit and a clearing. There’s a couple of motor homes around, a mountain bike and… what’s this??? A backpack? NOPE. A PARACHUTE!!!! How convenient, right across this clearing is a lookout point over a sheer cliff. And to make things even more convenient, there’s a small bike ramp. Hmmm… if I could get enough speed, I could clear that fence… Anyone up for some basejumping?

Never having done this before and having a full health bar and full armour, I figure what the hell? Hop on the bike, equip the parachute and I’m off. I clear the lookout railing easily. HOLY SHIT, its a long, long ways down. I quickly realize that the parachute just doesn’t work on its own. And I’m still on the bike. I struggle with the bike and before I know it, the ground is right there. SLAM!! Amazingly, for some reason, I ride away unscathed. Further to this discovery of mine, it turns out I can get onto the roof of the tallest building back in Los Santos (its really easy to find). I figure I can try basejumping here and not have to deal with the bike. First attempt? I don’t jump off the building but rather just step off and splat myself all over a ledge not even a 1/4 of the way down. Second attempt? Road pizza on the highway. Third attempt, I actually meet my maker on the roof of a moving car. Finally, on the fourth attempt I figure out how to deploy my chute and make a nice landing on a nearby building. One problem though, how do I get down from here now?

After recovering from multiple fractures, I’m back on track on establishing myself in San Fierro. I figure new city, new look for myself. So, no more gym, no more running and always ten combos at the local fast food joint. I’m going for the Heavy D look this time ’round. Catch y’all at the Fat Albert premiere!