bettsyboy
Four Thousand Club
The year is 2014, modern day Los Angeles, the land of celebs, hollywood, and crime... ghettos, drugs, corruption, the shining gem of America with one gleaming beautiful side and one filthy shit-covered side.
We open our story on a beautiful Thursday afternoon, the sun is shining, and in a certain truck parking area on South Sportsman Drive (Thanks google maps) stood five men, all clad in fine suits and glasses, two with dual handguns under their blazer jackets, and the other three holding military grade AR-15 rifles with vertical foregrips, they waited patiently, as another car began to pull up, it was red, with blue neon lights coming from underneath, so bright that they could be seen reflecting off the pavement even during the middle of the day, the suited men didn't care, their cars were all jet-black BMWs with reinforced... everything, from the car, two men came out, one was clad in red cloth, a tall but slim black man with a shiny bald head, tinted aviator glasses, a red bandanna across his neck, red singlet, loose black jeans with fresh out of the box sneakers and a gold necklace around his neck, the other guy was just as tall, but he wore a grey button up shirt with a white T underneath, faded blue shorts, work boots, more stylish tinted sunglasses, with a red bandanna on his head and long dreadlocks, he wielded a modified Kalashnikov with a ribbed rubber grip, extended magazine and scope.
The men came up to the ones in suits, big grins on the slim man's face "hey man, wassup?" the other man didn't respond for a few seconds while he slowly removed his glasses, folding them up and tucking them tidily in his suit pocket "the price" he responded, the man spoke with a thick Italian/Russian mix accent, they belonged to the Staliano crime family, once warring Italian and Russian mobsters, however in the end they both united when faced with a local smuggling cartel, they found how strong they were together so they took on the Italian name but kept the russian methods.
"What 'chu mean the price!? how much!?" barked the black man, pointing accusingly at the mobsters "We mean, Javier fell through, one of his own men was a f**king fed, we had to get this in by boat, not by land, cost us more to get it, costs you more to buy, and the price is up 20%" the gangster gritted his teeth, stamping back before stamping back up to the mobsters again "that shit don't fly with me!" "It flies like lady liberty... on a pole shoved up your ass so far you'll puke up freedom and eagles for a week if you don't hold up your end, I know you guys keep plenty in excess" "shit! man we can't afford that!" "we also know you morons blow almost 30% of it on yourselves between shipments, maybe if you sell it all, you'll be able to afford it easily" the black guy went for his gun, the men with rifles pointed them at him, luckily his friend was able to stop him "Easy big red, easy n***a" the big guy took his friend's place "this change permenant?" he spoke with more refinement, like he actually knew what he was doing, the mobster shook his head "No no, just until we plug the leaks Javier's stupidity burst open, this shipment, the one after that, then prices will go back to normal i'd wager" the guy shook his head "Alright..." the deal went on, the gangsters gave the mobsters three suitcases of 100 dollar bills, the mobsters gave the gangsters 2 travel suitcases of pure columbian, they shook hands and left... that is, until police helicopters, a whole swarm of them came over the buildings, and a fleet of wailing police sirens came down the street...
3 HOURS LATER
In the area between West Hollywood and Beverly Hills, in a large house with a beautiful yard where a gardener toiled, mowing the lawn and the maid busied herself with cleaning up the place, a young man by the name of Marco Tully was finishing his daily workout, Marco is the nephew of Don Ricardo Staliano, his "favorite nephew" as he says almost every day, of course why not? when papa Ricardo was in Australia, every time, it was Marco who would always ask him to tell him stories, it was Marco who jumped at the chance for him to teach young Marco how to use a gun, and it was Marco who took his words about family truly to heart... and in the last 4 months, Marco has proven himself to be a damn good earner, bringing in a lot of money to the family, his house was a gift from Uncle Ricardo (He stopped calling him "Papa Ricardo" when he was 12) but everything else, the help, the fine tables, couches, the big plasma screen T.V, all that was earned through his work in the family... the personal gym was taken from Tony's house after he died.
Walking from his gym, wearing shorts, sneakers and a sweat-soaked singlet with a white towel around his neck, he went to the kitchen where Catalina was busy doing the dishes "Morning Catty" "Morning mister Tully, working today?" "no no, Uncle Ricardo ordered me not to work today... he still thinks the damn hole hasn't healed yet, but I told him it has" Catalina's husband used to work for Ricardo, so she knows all the details, she works as a maid because she cannot stand not earning herself a living.
The hole Marco was referring to was a bullet hole in his lower abdomen on the his hand side, he took it during a shootout with the "34th demons" a gang of thugs who claimed to "control" a good chunk of the Staliano's territory.
Walking out onto his back porch, Marco looked over his yard and into the neighborhood he could see over his fence... this city really was something, for a small town boy all the way from Australia, L.A still blew his mind completely, at least in Melbourne there was this feeling that it didn't go on forever, but this city was like an ocean, with countless people... he sighed, leaning on the railings, looking out over the city, wondering what he was going to do today, perhaps go to the beach, or maybe just go to a random part of town and wander the streets. His thoughts wandered, and he looked back to his house.... it was lonely, he had work friends, the help, all friendly with him but he wanted something more, something more than some one night stand with some sl*t who swoons when he says "G'day love" someone he can... well, love...
(I think we could open up with them meeting and starting their relationship, then if you want we could do a time skip to the gang war)
We open our story on a beautiful Thursday afternoon, the sun is shining, and in a certain truck parking area on South Sportsman Drive (Thanks google maps) stood five men, all clad in fine suits and glasses, two with dual handguns under their blazer jackets, and the other three holding military grade AR-15 rifles with vertical foregrips, they waited patiently, as another car began to pull up, it was red, with blue neon lights coming from underneath, so bright that they could be seen reflecting off the pavement even during the middle of the day, the suited men didn't care, their cars were all jet-black BMWs with reinforced... everything, from the car, two men came out, one was clad in red cloth, a tall but slim black man with a shiny bald head, tinted aviator glasses, a red bandanna across his neck, red singlet, loose black jeans with fresh out of the box sneakers and a gold necklace around his neck, the other guy was just as tall, but he wore a grey button up shirt with a white T underneath, faded blue shorts, work boots, more stylish tinted sunglasses, with a red bandanna on his head and long dreadlocks, he wielded a modified Kalashnikov with a ribbed rubber grip, extended magazine and scope.
The men came up to the ones in suits, big grins on the slim man's face "hey man, wassup?" the other man didn't respond for a few seconds while he slowly removed his glasses, folding them up and tucking them tidily in his suit pocket "the price" he responded, the man spoke with a thick Italian/Russian mix accent, they belonged to the Staliano crime family, once warring Italian and Russian mobsters, however in the end they both united when faced with a local smuggling cartel, they found how strong they were together so they took on the Italian name but kept the russian methods.
"What 'chu mean the price!? how much!?" barked the black man, pointing accusingly at the mobsters "We mean, Javier fell through, one of his own men was a f**king fed, we had to get this in by boat, not by land, cost us more to get it, costs you more to buy, and the price is up 20%" the gangster gritted his teeth, stamping back before stamping back up to the mobsters again "that shit don't fly with me!" "It flies like lady liberty... on a pole shoved up your ass so far you'll puke up freedom and eagles for a week if you don't hold up your end, I know you guys keep plenty in excess" "shit! man we can't afford that!" "we also know you morons blow almost 30% of it on yourselves between shipments, maybe if you sell it all, you'll be able to afford it easily" the black guy went for his gun, the men with rifles pointed them at him, luckily his friend was able to stop him "Easy big red, easy n***a" the big guy took his friend's place "this change permenant?" he spoke with more refinement, like he actually knew what he was doing, the mobster shook his head "No no, just until we plug the leaks Javier's stupidity burst open, this shipment, the one after that, then prices will go back to normal i'd wager" the guy shook his head "Alright..." the deal went on, the gangsters gave the mobsters three suitcases of 100 dollar bills, the mobsters gave the gangsters 2 travel suitcases of pure columbian, they shook hands and left... that is, until police helicopters, a whole swarm of them came over the buildings, and a fleet of wailing police sirens came down the street...
3 HOURS LATER
In the area between West Hollywood and Beverly Hills, in a large house with a beautiful yard where a gardener toiled, mowing the lawn and the maid busied herself with cleaning up the place, a young man by the name of Marco Tully was finishing his daily workout, Marco is the nephew of Don Ricardo Staliano, his "favorite nephew" as he says almost every day, of course why not? when papa Ricardo was in Australia, every time, it was Marco who would always ask him to tell him stories, it was Marco who jumped at the chance for him to teach young Marco how to use a gun, and it was Marco who took his words about family truly to heart... and in the last 4 months, Marco has proven himself to be a damn good earner, bringing in a lot of money to the family, his house was a gift from Uncle Ricardo (He stopped calling him "Papa Ricardo" when he was 12) but everything else, the help, the fine tables, couches, the big plasma screen T.V, all that was earned through his work in the family... the personal gym was taken from Tony's house after he died.
Walking from his gym, wearing shorts, sneakers and a sweat-soaked singlet with a white towel around his neck, he went to the kitchen where Catalina was busy doing the dishes "Morning Catty" "Morning mister Tully, working today?" "no no, Uncle Ricardo ordered me not to work today... he still thinks the damn hole hasn't healed yet, but I told him it has" Catalina's husband used to work for Ricardo, so she knows all the details, she works as a maid because she cannot stand not earning herself a living.
The hole Marco was referring to was a bullet hole in his lower abdomen on the his hand side, he took it during a shootout with the "34th demons" a gang of thugs who claimed to "control" a good chunk of the Staliano's territory.
Walking out onto his back porch, Marco looked over his yard and into the neighborhood he could see over his fence... this city really was something, for a small town boy all the way from Australia, L.A still blew his mind completely, at least in Melbourne there was this feeling that it didn't go on forever, but this city was like an ocean, with countless people... he sighed, leaning on the railings, looking out over the city, wondering what he was going to do today, perhaps go to the beach, or maybe just go to a random part of town and wander the streets. His thoughts wandered, and he looked back to his house.... it was lonely, he had work friends, the help, all friendly with him but he wanted something more, something more than some one night stand with some sl*t who swoons when he says "G'day love" someone he can... well, love...
(I think we could open up with them meeting and starting their relationship, then if you want we could do a time skip to the gang war)
